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WALTER    BARRETT,    CLERK 

AUTHOR  O* 
"THK  OLD  XBBCHANTB  O7  MXW  TORK  CITT." 


NEW-YORK: 

Carleton,  Publisher,  413  Broadway. 
MDCCCLXIV. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1883. 
BT     GEO.      W.      CARLETON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


3  Ctebicate  i\)is  Book 

TO 

JAMES     GORDON      BENNETT,     ESQ., 

Proprietor  and  Editor  of  the  New  Tork  Herald. 

Who  has  carved  for  himself  a  record  in  Journalism  that  will  last  as  long 
as  newspapers  are  published — because  he  first  told  me  that  I  had  those 
peculiar  imaginative  qualities  that  would  enable  me  to  write  a  success- 
ful novel.  This  will  test  his  sagacity.  Long  years  ago,  he  asserted  in 
the  most  positive  manner  that  I  had  qualifications  that  would  give  me 
marked  success  as  a  novelist.  I  laughed  at  him  because  I  did  not 
believe,  him.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  read  many  of  the  great  novels^ 
and  when  I  replied  in  the  negative,  he  gave  me  money  to  purchase 
novels  written  by  Scott,  Bulwer  and  others.  I  read  their  works,  but 
I  did  not  write  a  novel  then,  though  I  thought  much  of  what  Mr.  Ben- 
nett had  said.  Since  then  I  have  done  more  than  write  for  the  daily 
bread  and  butter  for  my  family,  and  have  found  leisure  to  write  this 
novel,  which  may  or  may  not  verify  the  predictions  of  Mr.  Bennett. 


WALTER  BARRETT,  CLBBK. 


(TON'S   BiKTH-DAT, 

February  22, 1864. 


1634330 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Introduction. 

HOLLAND  has  sent  to  our  shores  many  of  her  best  citizens. 
She  has  the  merit  also  of  having  commenced  two  hundred  and 
forty  years  ago,  and  some  of  the  best  families  in  New  York 
are  of  the  Neder  Duitch  stock.  The  country  is  overstocked 
with  hock  deuischers  of  more  recent  importation. 

Not  many  years  ago  I  made  a  visit  to  Holland.  I  resided 
for  some  months  in  Delft,  the  capital  of  Delftland  in  the  Prov- 
ince of  Holland.  Having  business  at  the  Royal  Academy, 
where  I  was  having  various  models  made,  I  endeavored  to  pro- 
cure a  residence  in  a  private  family.  Through  the  exertions 
of  Professor  Lipkins  I  succeeded  ;  and  the  second  day  after 
my  arrival,  found  myself  installed  into  a  quiet  country  villa 
about  half  a  mile  from  the  city.  It  was  located  upon  the  bank 
of  the  canal  that  connects  Delft  with  the  Hague.  My  host, 
whose  name  was  Van  Hagen,  was  a  man  of  great  age,  and  his 
vrouw  was.  still  younger.  They  had  no  children,  but  occupied 
this  beautiful  villa  alone.  It  had  a  large  and  well  cultivated 
garden  attached  to  it,  and  its  neatness  and  luxuries  still  leave 
a  pleasing  impression  upon  my  mind,  x 

Over  the  gate  was  a  motto — but  whether  it  was  indicative 
of  the  mind  of  the  owner,  or  his  coat  of  arms,  or  indicated  the 
character  of  the  place,  I  never  inquired.  It  was  in  gold  let- 
ters, or  made  of  brass,  gilded — LUST  EN  RUST — or  Hope  and 
Repose. 

It  was  a  pleasant  morning's  walk  from  my  host's  country 
villa  into  the  city  of  Delft,  and  the  sudden  transition,  from  the 


8  VIGOR. 

tranquility  of  the  country  to  the  busy  hum  of  men  was  very 
striking.  The  canals,  with  their  numerous  drawbridges  in 
the  heart  of  the  city,  lined  with  Treckschuiyts  of  all  sorts  and 
sizes,  gave  a  relief  from  country  quietness. 

The  first  meal  of  which  I  partook  at  my  new  home  was  a 
solitary  one.  Every  thing  was  neat,  and  the  victuals  well 
cooked.  I  had  a  silver  fork  by  my  side,  and  the  table  cloth 
was  of  snowy  whiteness,  and  in  the  room  in  which  I  dined  wag 
a  glass  China  cupboard,  and  every  article  within  it  bore  shining 
testimony  of  it's  having  received  a  due  proportion  of  diurnal 
care.  After  my  meal  was  finished  I  was  joined  by  my  aged 
host  and  his  worthy  lady.  They  had  dined  previous  to  my 
arrival.  He  addressed  me  in  English,  somewhat  to  my  sur- 
prise, and  remarked — "  You  are  an  American." 

I  replied  that  I  was,  and  he  added,  "  Had  you  not  been,  I 
should  not  have  consented  to  entertain  you  even  at  the  request 
of  my  old  friend  the  Professor  of  the  Royal  Academy."  "You 
seem  to  be  partial  to  Americans,  and  I  certainly  feel  thankful 
that  it'is  so,  for  Delft  is  a  gloomy  place,  while  here  I  am  alrea- 
dy at  home.  But  why  are  you  so  friendly  to  America  ?"  I 
asked.  He  replied,  "  I  once  thought  of  going  to  America. 
My  brother  went  out  there  many  years  ago,  with  a  young  wife. 
It  was  during  the  time  that  the  French  occupied  Holland,  and 
our  king  was  then  Louis,  the  brother  of  Napoleon.  He  was 
ambitious  to  restore  the  fallen  fortunes  of  our  house,  for  we 
are  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  Holland  ;  and  some  day  when 
we  visit  the  city,  I  will  show  you  a  monument  in  the  "  ould 
kirk  "  at  Delft  of  one  of  our  name,  who  was  buried  in  1562, 
and  was  a  famous  scholar  in  his  day.  Now,  my  young  friend 
all  of  our  old  race  are  in  America  except  myself.  Had  my 
brother  not  died,  I  should  have  sold  my  property  here,  and 
followed  him  over  the  sea.  I  am  not  rich,  but  in  comfortable 
circumstances,  and  as  a  Director  appointed  by  the  Government 
to  keep  the  dams  and  roads  in  repair  I  receive  a  handsome 
fixed  salary,  and  am  content  to  live  and  die  where  my  ances- 
tors for  five  hundred  years  before  me  have  lived  and  died." 

I  listened  to  the  old  gentleman's  remarks  with  the  very 
deepest  interest,  and  after  he  had  concluded  I  asked,  "  What 
part  of  America  did  your  brother  and  his  wife  go  to  ?" 

"  To  Charleston,  in  the  Southern  part  of  America,"  replied 
the  old  gentleman  with  great  simplicity. 

"  To  Charleston  in  South  Carolina,  you  probably  mean." 

"  Yes,  that  was  the  place." 


VIGOR.       '  » 

"  You  have  heard  from  your  brother  frequently,  I  presume, 
before  he  died  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  frequently,  until  somewhere  about  the  time  that  Wa- 
terloo was  fought.  Th&t  was  when  ?" 

"  In  1815,"  I  added. 

"Yes.  Soon  after  then  I  got  a  letter  from  him.  He  had 
been  very  successful  in  business,  and  had  acquired  considera- 
ble property  as  a  merchant.  He  owned  a  plantation  and  ne- 
groes, but  he  wrote  me  that  his  health  was  failing.  He  had 
two  children,  both  girls.  Not  long  after  I  received  the  letter 
in  which  he  stated  he  was  sick,  I  got  another  from  my  broth- 
er's widow.  She  wrote  that  he  was  dead." 

"  Was  that  the  last  you  heard  from  your  relatives  in 
Charleston'?"  I  asked. 

"  No.  I  received  a  letter  occasionally  for  several  years,  de- 
scribing the  growth  of  my  two  nieces,  one  of  whose  name  was 
Margaret,  and  the  other  Mary,  who  was  some  years  younger 
than  her  sister,  and  was  not  born  until  the  year  in  which  my 
brother  died.  For  twenty  years  I  have  not  heard  a  word  or 
received  a  line  from  any  of  them.  »1  wrote  frequently,  but  no 
reply  came,  and  I  suppose  they  are  all  dead." 

When  I  parted  with  the  venerable  Van  Hagen,  I  told  him 
that  very  probably  I  should  at  some  future  day,  after  my  re- 
turn to  America,  visit  Charleston — and  in  such  an  event  I 
would  diligently  seek  out  any  of  his  race  or  name,  and  if  I 
ascertained  that  any  were  living,  I  agreed  to  write  and  inform 
him  fully  in  reference  to  what  so  nearly  concerned  his  family 
love. 

Years  passed  away  before  I  found  myself  in  a  position  to  re- 
deem my  promise.  I  had  occasion  to  go  to  Charleston,  and 
while  there  had  rooms  at  the  Charleston  Hotel,  kept  then,  and 
I  believe  now,  by  a  most  excellent  landlord  of  the  name  of 
Mixer.  ^ 

With  his  assistance  I  obtained  a  clue  to  the  locality  where 
I  would  probably  find  the  relatives  of  my  ancient  Dutch  friend, 
I  was  obliged  to  undertake  a  short  journey  into  the  country, 
and  to  reside  for  some  time  in  a  spot  that  at  certain  periods 
of  the  year  is  a  modern  G-arden  of  Eden.  Fruits  and  flowers 
flourish  in  the  most  luxuriant  manner.  Game  is  abundant,  an(l 
the  rivers  and  creeks  are  stocked  with  fish  ready  to  bite  at  the 
most  insignificant  bait. 

I  returned  to  Charleston,  and  immediately  devoted  my  time 
for  several  days  in  writing  a  letter  to  the  aged  Vau  Hagen  in 
Delft,  Holland*.,!  enclosed  the  letter  to  William  S.  Campbell, 


10  VIGOE. 

Esq.,  the  United  States  Consul  at  Rotterdam,  a  city  only  one 
hour  distant  from  Delft. 

After  dispatching  my  formidable  document,  I  left  for  the 
North.  I  had  not  been  in  New  York  a  great  while  when  I  re- 
ceived a  private  lette?  from  Consul  Campbell,  informing  me 
that  old  Adam  Van  Hagen  was  dead,  and  had  not  received  my 
letter.  • 

Luckily  I  kept  a  copy  of  the  letter  I  had  sent  to  Holland.  I 
determined  to  re-write  it  in  a  book  form.  A  faithful  narrative 
required  me  to  embrace  the  adventures  of  One  of  the  descend- 
ants whose  spirit  of  enterprise  led  him  to  New  York.  As  a 
consequence  I  had  to  bring  in  other  names,  and  use  many  oth- 
er matters  of  interest  indirectly  connected  with  one  of  the 
family. 

I  will  now  relate  in  a  regular  manner  what  I  have  to  say. 
But  in  order  to  do  so  with  spirit,  I  will  commence  a  new 
Chapter. 


CHAPTER    II. 

[This  Chapter  was  written  before  the  outbreak  in  1861.] 

South  Carolina  and  her  People — Marriage  of  Henry  Monck  to  Miss  Van 
Hagen — Munck'n  Comers  —Country  Ftvcr — Birth  of  Marion  Monck. 

SOUTH  CAROLINA  was  the  State  in  which  the  descendant  of 
the  old  Holland  Van  Hagen  was  born,  and  who  is  also  the 
principal  hero  of  this  narrative.  The  State,  as  her  leading  sons 
affectionately  designate  her,  in  Congress  and  elsewhere,  has 
ever  been  regarded  as  the  most  aristocratic  State  in  the  Fede- 
ral Confederacy,  and  her  sons  and  daughters  as  the  very  elite 
of  the  great  American  population.  Even  the  P.F.V.  or  "  first 
families  of  Virginia"  by  general  consent,  back  down  gracefully 
and  give  place  to  an  old  South  Carolina  family.  In  the  North, 
Southern  travellers  who  can  assert  with  truth  that  they  are 
South  Carolinian,  hold  their  heads  at  a  more  lofty  elevation — 
Jlnd  their  right  to  do  so  is  never  disputed.  Northern  people 
cave  without  a  murmur  to  South  Carolina  pre-eminence. 

The  actual  opinion  of  a  genuine  South  Carolinian  of  his 
State,  and  of  him  or  herself,  is  not  put  on  for  show,  while  tra- 
velling or  while  conversing  upon  the  subject.  They  honestly 
believe  what  has  the  appearance  of  being  egotistically  asserted 


VIGOR.  11 

* 

— and  the  humiliating  idea  that  South  Carolina  is  not  the  gen- 
teel and  the  most  powerful  State  in  the  Union,  if  not  the  only 
State  of  any  account,  and  her  population  the  most  enlightened, 
most  wealthy,  most  happy,  most  prosperous,  and  the  best  edu- 
cated, is  never  entertained  for  an  instant  in  the  breast  or  brain 
of  a  genuine  South  Carolinian. 

South  Carolinans  are  a  singular  and  an  exclusive  sort  of 
aristocracy.  They  believe  in  their  own  institutions  of  all 
kinds,  and  have  a  holy  horror  of  Northerners  in  general.  It  is 
true  that  this  Japanese  sort  of  exclusiveness  is  not  so  intense 
as  it  was  a  few  years  ago.  Yankee  pedlers,  Northern  mer- 
chants and  storekeepers  have  emigrated  into  South  Carolina, 
made  fortunes,  and  in  many  instances  made  alliances  by  mar- 
riage with  some  of  the  best  blood  in  the  State.  Both  parties 
have  gained  by  these  marriages.  Families  of  two  or  three 
hundred  years'  standing,  but  broken  down,  sx>  far  as  finances 
were  concerned,  have  been  married  into  by  men  of  business 
habits,  literary  merit,  or  property  qualifications,  and  the  happy 
result  has  been  a  much  healthier  progeny,  intellectually  and 
physically,  than  when  the  descendants  of  the  old  families  mar- 
ried with  each  other  exclusively.  Such  marriages  have  done  a 
great  deal  also  to  soften  the  prejudices  of  South  Carolina 
against  the  people  of  the  more  Northern  States. 

South  Carolina  may  be  said  to  be  divided  into  three  parts — 
the  upper,  the  middle,  and  the  lower  division.  In  the  latter 
are  to  be  found  the  largest  planters,  and  those  who  own  the 
greatest  quantity  of  slaves.  These  planters  reside  near  the 
banks  of  the  Cooper  and  Ashley  rivers,  both  of  which  pass 
Charleston  on  each  side,  and  then  unite  and  pass  onward  to 
the  sea. 

It  was  on  the  banks  of  the  Cooper  river  that  my  principal 
character  was  born. 

I  have  already  mentioned  that  in  the  early  part  of  the  cen- 
tury, a  Dutch  gentleman  and  his  wife  emigrated  from  Delft,  in 
Holland,  to  Charleston,  South  Carolina.  Delft,  already  alluded 
to  in  the  introductory  chapter,  was  famous  many  years  ago  for 
its  crockery.  The  city  is  located  about  midway  between  the 
Hague  and  the  city  of  Rotterdam.  Martin  Van  Hagen,  as  well 
as  his  brother  Adam,  was  born  in  an  old  house  stretched  upon 
the  mainland,  and  directly  opposite  to  the  old  church  in  which 
William,  Prince  of  Orange,  was  assassinated. 

When  Martin  and  his  wife  decided  to  try  the  United  States, 
they  took  passage  i»-an  American  ship  at  Rotterdam,  bound 
directly  for  Charleston.  They  reached  their  destination  in 


1 2  VIGOR. 

safety.  Ere  they  had  been  ashore  a  month,  Mr.  Van  Hagen, 
who  had  cash  capital,  had  engaged  in  mercantile  business,  and 
he  had  also  secured  a  small  wooden  dwelling-house  on  the 
corner  of  King  and  Warren  streets.  The  building  is  still 
standing.  In  this  house  the  family  resided  several  years,  and 
their  affairs  prospered.  They  were  blessed  with  two  daugh- 
ters. One  named  Margaret  and  the  other  Mary.  A  consider- 
able interval  elapsed  between  the  birth  of  the  eldest  and  the 
youngest.  Shortly  after  the  birth  of  Mary  the  father  died,  and 
left  a  widow  and  two  children. 

They  continued  to  reside  in  the  old  house  long  after  the 
father's  death,  but  before  the  eldest  reached  the  age  of  sixteen, 
she  married  a  young  American  of  the  name  of  Henry  Monck, 
and  shortly  after  his  marriage  he  conveyed  his  bride  to  his 
own  home  on  Cooper  river,  in  the  parish  of  St.  John  Berkley, 
not  far  distant  from  the  celebrated  Monck's  Corners,  a  name  de- 
rived from  his  ancestors,  one  of  whom  emigrated  from  England 
at  a  very  early  period  of  the  history  of  South  Carolina.  The 
Henry  Monck  who  emigrated  to  South  Carolina  was  the  second 
son  of  that  English  Admiral  Monck,  who,  in  1640,  fought  the 
great  battle  that  lasted  three  days  with  the  Dutch  Admiral 
de  Ruyter  in  the  time  of  Charles  the  Second.  It  was  under 
permission  of  the  Admiral  Monck  that  Vandervelde,  the  great 
inaine  painter,  plied  between  the  fleets,  so  that  he  was  enabled  to 
represent  every  movement  of  the  ships,  and  every  material  cir- 
cumstance of  the  action  with  astonishing  minuteness  and  truth. 
But  to  return  to  young  Monck.  When, he  married  Miss  Van 
Hagen  he  was  not  twenty-two  years  of  age.  His  father  died 
when  he  was  very  young,  and  by  some  rascality  of  his  guar- 
dian, before  he  became  of  age  he  was  robbed  of  nearly  every 
negro  that  he  had  inherited  at  his  father's  death.  When  he 
married  he  was  only  the  owner  of  two  negroes,  a  dwelling- 
house,  and  about  three  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  land.  This 
quantity  of  paternal  acres  would  have  been  a  great  property  if 
located  in  some  parts  of  the  Union,  but  at  Monck's  Corners, 
where  land  in  those  days  was  as  reasonably  cHeap  as  "  seven 
pence  "  an  acre,  the  value  of  the  land  only  amounted  to  about 
forty-seven  dollars. 

The  dwelling  house  was  large  and  commodious,  with  a  wide 
hall  through  it,  and  a  spacious  piazza  in  front.  All  the  out- 
buildings were  good.  The  store  cpntained  about  five  hundred 
dollars'"  worth  of  merchandise,  of  a  suitable  and  assorted  char- 
acter for  that  region,  so  that  the  young  ocuple  started  on  their 
marriage  career  under  very  favorable  auspices.  The  lands 


VIGOR.  13 

owned  by  Henry  Monck  bordered  on  Cooper  river,  and  he  had 
only  to  seat  himself  in  a  boat,  and  it  would  float  down  with  the 
ebb  tide  to  Charleston  City,  about  thirty  miles  distant  by  wa- 
ter, The  State  road  passed  his  door,  and  a  drive  of  twenty- 
eight  miles  would  take  him  to  Charleston  by  land.  It  was 
very  easy,  under  such  circumstances,  to  replenish  the  stock 
of  goods  in  his  store  whenever  it  was  called  for.  The 
young  couple  were  also  blessed  with  health,  and  though  poor 
white  people,  yet  they  had  no  reason  to  envy  their  more  pros- 
perous neighbors,  the  rich  rice  planters  of  Cooper  river.  It 
frequently  happens  in  the  state  of  South  Carolina  that  those 
who  appear  to  be  most  rich  are  in  reality  the  most  poor,  while, 
on  the  contrary,  those  who  are  comparatively  poor,  but  out  of 
debt,  are  the  most  independent.  Our  agricultural  readers  will 
be  somewhat  astonished  with  the  information  that  rich  lands, 
teeming  with  luxuriant  vegetation,  located  both  by  land  and 
water  within  thirty  miles  of  the  queen  city  of  the  south,  should 
ever  have  been  at  low  a  figure  as  twelve  and  a  half  cents  the 
acre.  Yet  such  has  been  the  fact,  and  even  now,  fifty-four 
years  later,  rich  lands,  capable,  by  proper  attention,  of  produ- 
cing as  valuable  crop  as  are  made  on  the  best  land  on  Long  Is- 
land, and  valued  at  five  hundred  dollars  the  acre,  can  be 
bought  for  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  to  two  dollars  an  acre,  with 
a  dwelling-house  upon  them.  But  Northern  farmers,  although 
well  aware  that  rich  lands  are  to  be  had  in  South  Carolina  at  a 
very  low  figure,  refuse  to  emigrate  to  South  Carolina  as  they 
do  to  Virginia,  because — not  slavery — but  the  country  fever. 
It  is  worse  than  yellow  fever,  African  fever,  or  any  other  fever 
but  itself.  It  is  a  scourge — a  terrible  scourge,  and  wo  to  a 
Northerner  or  Southerner  who  places  himself  in  the  way  of 
country  fever.  If  he  takes  it,  and  escapes  with  his  life,  it 
breaks  his  constitution  forever.  Our  readers  have  got  so  fur 
this  tale  as  where  Henry  Monck  carried  his  bride  up  to 
Monck's  Corners.  They  were  married  in  December,  and  at 
that  season  the  country  in  the  neighborhood  of  Charleston  is  a 
paradise.  The  bride'  was  delighted  with  hef  new  home,  and 
all  went  on  pleasantly  and  prosperously  with  the  new  couple 
until  the  month  of  August  of  the  year  succeeding  their  mar- 
riage. When  May  came,  Kenry  told  his  wife  of  the  danger 
that  she  would  incur  by  residing  on  their  place  in  the  summer 
months,  and  proposed  that  they  should  go  into  the  Pine  lands 
some  ten  miles  distant,  and  there  erect  a  log  cabin  for  their 
residence  in  the  summer  nights.  He  told  her  that  he  did  not 
fear  the  country  fever,  and  that  she  might  escape  it  if  she 


1 4  VIGOR.      . 

would  go  to  the  Pine  region  before  sundown  and  spend  the 
night  there,  returning  to  the  plantation  and  store  in  the  morning, 
after  the  dew  had  been  driven  off  the  grass  by  the  rays  of  the 
sun.  So  they  arranged  matters,  and  for  weeks  and  months  un- 
til far  into  the  summer  they  left  their  dwelling  before  sunset 
to  go  to  the  log  hut  in  the  Pine  region,  and  there  escaped  the 
danger  of  the  miasma  worse  than  that  of  the  pontine  marshes. 
Mrs.  Monck  enjoyed  excellent  health,  and  could  Scarcely  credit 
the  horrible  but  truthful  stories  she  heard  related  of  the  im- 
mediate effects  of  the  country  fever.  When  told  of  Mr.  Smith, 
who  had  accidentally  been  caught  out  at  night,  and  slept  in 
the  woods,  only  succeeded  by  the  long  sleep  that  knows  no 
waking — it  seemed  to  her  a  dream.  When  told  that  to  sleep, 
unless  a  large  fire  was  kept  burning  all  night,  was  certain 
death,  she  could  not  credit  it;  and  finally,  as  the -summer 
passed  into  autumn,  and  it  became  necessary  to  use  extra  ex- 
ertions to  get  in  the  crops  of  their  small  farm,  which  was  cul- 
tivated by  her  husband  and  the  two  old  negroes  Phillis  and 
Toney  that  remained  out  of  the  wreck  of  his  property,  she 
found  it  so  inconvenient  to  go  to  and  fro  night  and  morn- 
ing between  the  two  places,  she  told  her  husband  that  she  did 
not  believe  there  was  any  danger,  and  refused  to  leave  her 
dwelling  to  go  any  more  to  their  log  cabin  in  the  pine  woods. 
He  begged  her  to  wait  until  the  "  black  frost  "  came,  the  only 
sure  remedy  or  preventative  of  South  Carolina  country  fever. 
No.  Before  September  closed  she  had  it,  and  though  it  ran 
nine  days  before  it  was  broken,  yet  she  recovered,  after 
months  of  suffering. 

On  the  second  of  December,  1814,  a  year  after  their  mar- 
riage, Mrs.  Monck  gave  birth  to  a  son. 

She  had  visited  with  her  husband  the  grave  of  General  Ma- 
rion, in  St.  Stephen's  Parish,  had  been  over  the  grounds  where 
he  had  fought  his  battles,  and  she  insisted  that  her  child  should 
be  baptized  in  Biggin  Church,  famous  in  revolutionary  history, 
and  that  he  should  be  named  after  the  hero  of  whom  she  had 
heard  so  much  ;'  and  so  the  boy  was  baptized  by  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Howe  as 

"  MARION  MONCK." 

He  was  an  only  child,  and  father,  mother  and  son  vegetated 
at  Monck's  Corners,  with  more  or  less  prosperity  every  year} 
until  Marion  had  reached  his  eighth  year. 


VIGOR.  15 


CHAPTER  HI. 

Young   Monde  t  Boyhood — Jack   Bird  and  Mr.  \Negro  Black — Wild  Turkey 
Hunting  and  Finking. 

WHEN  Marion  Monck  was  eight  years  old,  like  other  south- 
ern boys,  he  was  capable  of  playing  almost  the  game  in  life  of 
a  man.  He  could  hunt,  fish,  ride  a  horse,  or  drive  a  team, 
and  was  a  great  favorite  not  only  of  his  own  relations,  but  of 
many  of  their  neighbors.  Some  of  these  became  Marion's  in- 
structors in  all  manly  arts.  One  of  the  names  of  these  men 
was  Jack  Bird.  He  was  a  fine  specimen  of  a  man.  His  age 
was  over  60,  and  he  stood  six  feet  and  a  half  without  boots, 
and  his  frame  was  well  proportioned.  He  could  neither  read 
nor  write,  but  he  would  secure  more  wild  turkeys  and  deer  in 
twenty -four  hours  than  any  other  man  in  South  Carolina.  Jack 
was  a  fair  specimen  of  many  poor  white  people.  His  den  or 
cabin  was  in  the  Pine  woods,  some  three  miles  from  the  Santee 
canal,  and  there  he  kept  his  wife  and  eleven  children,  all  grow- 
ing up  in  the  ways  of  old  Jack.  Jack  Bird  owned  no  cows,  or 
hogs,  or  poultry.  Why  should  he  ?  His  neighbors  on  Cooper 
river  owned  large  herds,  and — well,  Jack  could  steal  as  many 
as  he  needed  for  home  consumption,  or  as  he  could  safely  sell. 

Marion  had  always  been  an  immense  favorite  of  Jack's,  and 
although  the  position  in  life  of  Mr.  Monck  was  several  degrees 
above  that  of  Jack  Bird,  yet  the  latter  did  not  envy  or  injure 
him,  and  would  have  gone  some  distance  out  of  his  way  to 
have  done  Mr.  Monck  or  his  wife  a  service.  The  mother  re- 
paid Jack  for  all  his  kindness  to  her  son,  by  giving  him  choice 
bits  of  tobacco  occasionally  out  of  the  store,  and  he  frequently 
returned  the  compliment  by  leaving  her  a  fat  wild  turkey,  a 
brace  of  wild  ducks,  or  when  these  were  scarce,  a  dozen 
pigeons,  partridges,  or  robins.  Whoever  else  Jack  Bird  plun- 
dered was  of  no  consequence — lie  left  the  denizens  of  Monck's 
Corners  unmolested,  and  they  were  grateful  whenever  occasion 
offered. 

Charleston  people  frequently  visited  Monck's  Corners  to 
have  a  hunt,  and  Jack  was  always  to  pioneer  on  such  occa- 
sions ;  but  wo  to  any  unlucky  favorite  pen-knife,  .pencil-case, 
or  fish-hook  that  fell  in  his  way  !  It  was  sure  to  be  missing  if 
it  took  the  fancy  of  six-foot  Jack. 


16  VIGOR. 

Jack  had  trained  Marion  until  he  had  become  one  of  the 
best  wild  turkey  hunters  in  the  parish.  He  could  discover, 
with  little  trouble,  where  the  wild  turkeys  came  to  feed.  He 
would  then  prepare  a  hiding-place  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
fix  a  gun  loaded,  so  as  to  command  a  reach  of  ten  or  twenty 
feet  in  a  trench  by  the  side  of  a  log.  This  trench  he  would 
bait  with  corn,  and  then  trail  the  corn  off  in  several  directions 
to  places  where  the  wild  turkeys  would  be  likely  to  see  it.  A 
day  or  two  only  would  pass  when  Marion  would  discover  that 
the  turkeys  had  found  the  trench  and  had  ate  the  corn.  This 
he  would  refill,  and  so  do  every  morning  for  a  week,  until  the 
turkeys  had  made  a  regular  business  of  crowding  the  trench. 
Then  Marion  would  select  a  particular  morning,  go  early  to  his 
hide,  and  conceal  himself,  with  the  barrels  of  his  duck  gun 
loaded  with  buck-shot,  bearing  directly  upon  the  track.  Bye- 
and-bye  he  hears  a  noise — one,  two,  twelve,  twenty,  fifty  wild 
but  unsuspecting  turkeys  arrive — they  jump  over,  and  on,  and 
around  each  other,  to  get  at  the  corn.  Marion  quietly  pulls 
one,  and  then  the  other  trigger — bang,  bang  !  Some  turkeys 
get  off,  but  nearly  all  remain.  Twenty-eight  are  dead,  and 
Marion  goes  home  for  a  negro — Toney  and  the  one  horse  cart 
to  convey  his  spoils  home. 

Another  especial  friend  of  Marion  Monck's  was  Negro 
Black.  His  original  name  was  John  Black  ;  but  besides  being 
a  poor  white  man,  a  hunter  and  day  laborer,  he  added  to  his 
slender  income  by  catching  negroes.  Hence  his  nick-name  of 
Negro  Black,  by  which  he  was  known  not  only  throughout  St. 
John  Berkeley,  but  by  many  planters  in  other  sections  who 
had  runaway  negroes  to  catch.  Like  Dick  Bird,  he  had  a  wife 
and  eight  or  ten  white-headed  children.  Mr.  Black  had  one 
source  of  revenue,  and  it  was  always  a  sure  and  profitable  one. 
It  arose  from  successfully  hunting  wild  cats.  When  a  prowl- 
ing wild  cat  made  the  fact  apparent  that  he  was  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, by  catching  up  chickens  or  small  pigs,  the  planter 
upou  whose  premises  the  animal  had  made  a  demonstration 
was  seen  to  dispatch  a  summons  to  Mr.  Negro  Black. 

It  is  a  very  curious  fact  in  respect  to  the  habits  of  a  wild 
cat,  that  when  he  approaches  a  plantation,  or  rather  the  dwell- 
ings on  a  plantation,  where  his  designs  lay,  whether  it  be  to 
catch  poultry,  chickens  or  pigs,  he  goes  to  work  in  a  regular, 
scientific  business  manner.  The  cat  exhibits  no  greediness. 
If  he  lights  upon  an  old  sow  that  has  a  litter  of  eleven  or  more 
nice  little  delicate  pigs,  wild  kitty  commences  with  using  up 
one  a  day,  and  no  inducement  of  appetite  can  force  him  to  in- 


VIGOR.  17 

crease  the  quantity.  If  no  discovery  is  made  by  the  owner  of 
the  poor  old  sow,  at  the  end  of  the  eleventh  day  she  is  pigless. 
The  instant  the  overseer  discovered  by  the  regularity  of  the 
thefts  that  a  wild  cat  was  about,  he  sent  for  Negro  Black. 
Perhaps  it  took  one,  two  or  three  da}rs,  but  Negro  Black  was 
a  sure  coffin  for  the  cat.  He  and  his  dog  Victor  never  failed. 
The  cat  was  a  doomed  cat,  and  Mr.  Negro  Black  received  the 
skin  and  $10  as  his  fee  for  the  operation.  Negro  Black  had  a 
jealousy  of  Jack  Bird,  and  he  maintained  that  the  mode  Jack 
had  of  catching  wild  turkeys,  by  a  hide,  was  deliberate  mur- 
der. It  gave  the  turkeys  no  show  ;  and  he  taught  Marion 
another  method.  At  a  certain- season,  when  the  wild  turkeys 
get  scattered,  he  would  go  into  the  woods  with  Marion,  and 
pile  up  a  lot  of  brush  wood. 

"  Get  behind  that  with  your  gun,  pull  the  brush  wood  over 
you,  and  use  the  whistle." 

It  was  many  days  before  Marion  succeeded  in  shooting  a 
solitary  wild  turkey  ;  and  even  before  that  event  took  place, 
Negro  Black's  patience  became  quite  exhausted  ; — for  while 
Marion's  gun  was  idle,  and  not  a  wild  turkey  would  come  nigh 
him  in  answer  to  his  whistle,  Negro  Black  would  be  off  in  a 
different  part  of  the  woods,  and  kill  several.  At  last  he  broke 
out — 

"  Why  you  no  whistle  as  I  do,  when  you  go  for  catch  wild 
turkey  ?  Take  your  whistle  and  blow  leetle  bit — turkey  hear 
him — wait — no  blow  again  until  you  hear  turkey  answer — then 
blow  a  leetle  harder — wait — turkey  answer  again — then  blow 
one  soft,  slow  blow,  and  don't  blow  any  more.  Wait — turkey 
come  bye-and-bye  sure — den  pop  him.  Turkey  like  young 
girl.  If  young  man  want  take  young  girl  for  his  wife,  he  give 
one  call — little  girl  don't  answer — it  no  use.  Young  man  hab 
patience  and  wait.  Bye-and-bye  little  girl  make  reply.  Young 
man  call  again — wait  until  the  young  girl  come,  like  tur- 
key, and  say,  '  I'm  yours.'  ' 

Another  and  a  third  mode  of  killing  wild  turkeys,  taught 
Marion  by  his  hunter  teachers,  was  to  watch  in  the  woods  to 
hear  where  they  roosted.  He  would  hear  a  turkey  fly  at  sun- 
down, apd  very  soon  would  trace  a  flock.  If  it  was  moonlight 
Marion  would  go  for  his  gun,  and  four  or  five  turkeys  would  be 
his  reward.  Or  if  it  was  very  dark,  he  would  wait  patiently 
for  the  first  glimmering  of  daylight,  and  then  pop  off  a  few  tur- 
keys before  they  had  left  the  "  turkey  roost." 

Marion's  two  friends  were  both  fishermen  as  well  as  hunters  ; 
and  where  in  the  world  is  there  such  sport  with .  the  finny 


18  VIGOR. 

tribes  as  at  Monck's  Corners  ?  Hours,  day  and  night,  Marion 
used  to  spend  on  the  banks  of  the  Biggin  creek,  or  on  the  side 
of  the  old  Santee  canal.  Sometimes  with  a  small  dip  net  he 
would  catch  one,  two  or  four  shad,  as  they  dashed  up  to  the 
waste  way  of  the  canal,  and  in  the  months  of  February,  March, 
April  and  May,  with  the  hook  and  line,  in  Biggin  creek,  he 
would  catch  trout  of  the  size  df  eleven  pounds,  rock  fish,  perch, 
brise,  catfish,  and  mullet  by  the  million.  0,  such  sport  as  he 
had  in  these  well-filled  waters.  Every  fish  that  belongs  to 
salt  or  fresh  water  is  caught  in  the  Biggin  creek,  or  Santee 
canal,  when  the  tide,  is  running  in  or  out.  Thousands  of  nights 
coald  Marion  have  been  found  with  his  dip  net  on  the  bank  of 
the  Biggin  creek,  the  whole  scene  made  as  light  as  day  by  the 
"  light  wood  "  bonfires,  and  sometimes  he  and  hjs  companions 
wohld  be  thus  engaged,  with  more  or  less  luck,  until  daybreak. 


CHAPTER  IY. 

Marion's  Education — Death  of  Grandmother — Aunt's  arrival  at  Monck's  Cor- 
ners— the  Store — Negro  Customers. 

WHILE  Marion  Monck,  by  violent  exercise,  was  developing 
his  physical  powers,  his  mental  were  neglected,  so  far  as  edu- 
cation was  concerned,  during  these  years  of  child  and  boy- 
hood, or  until  he  was  over  ten  years  of  age.  At  that  time  he 
had  not  acquired  the  first  letter  of  the  alphabet.  His  grand- 
mother came  up  from  Charleston  occasionally  to  spend  a  few 
days,  but  our  youth  never  returned  to  town  with  her.  About 
this  period,  the  grandmother,  who  had  came  over  from  Hol- 
land with  her  husband,  died  in  the  city  of  Charleston.  Her 
remains  were  taken  to  Monck's  Corners  for  interment.  So  soon 
as  her  affairs  were  settled,  the  eldest  daughter  left  Charles- 
ton and  went  to  Monck's  Corners  to  reside  permanently  with 
her  sister,  Miss  Monck.  This  event  had  a  very  important 
bearing  upon  the  education  of  Marion.  She  was  a  very  intel- 
ligent lady,  had  reading  many  books,  and  possessed* a  very 
general  knowledge  of  what  it  was  now  highly  important  that 
young  Monck  should  know. 

The  Aunt  found  in  her  nephew,  a  well  developed  handsome 
boy,  capable  of  leading  in  any  manly  enterprise,  and  accom- 
plished in  all  manly  sports.  In  place  of  A  B  C,  he  knew  the 
number  of  every  fish  hook  ;  if  he  had  no  knowledge  of  grammar 


VIGOR.       .  19 

he  could  ride  a  horse,  and  join  in  a  deer  hunt.  If  he  had  no 
knowledge  of  geography,  he  knew  every  spot  where  game 
could  be  scared  up,  and  for  arithmetic  he  could  catch  fish  and 
game  to  an  extent  that  even  David  could  not  have  counted. 
In  a  word,  he  could  ride,  drive,  hunt,  fish,  or  swim  equal  to 
any  man  in  St.  John's  Parish,  if  thrice  his  age.  He  was  in- 
telligent, could  talk  well  on  many  and  most  subjects,  his  in- 
formation having  been  derived  from  the  conversation  with 
others.  His  aunt,  who  regarded  a  good  education  as  every- 
thing in  life,  became  very  much  alarmed  at  finding  a  nephew 
ten  years  of  age  who  could  neither  read  or  write.  She  deter- 
mined to  remedy  what  she  regarded  as  a  degrading  evil. 
Marion  felt  that  it  would  at  least  be  convenient  to  read  at 
last,  and  willingly  became  a  prompt  pupil  to  his  aunt.  His 
progress  was  very  rapid,  for  he  had  an  iron  memory.  The 
A,  B,  C,  was  soon  acquired,  and  night  and  day  did  he  devote 
to  learning,  until  he  could  read  anything,  wrote  a  plain  hand, 
could  "  do  "  any  sum  in  Daboll's  arithmetic,  and  had  Murray's 
grammar  by  heart.  Moore's  geography  was  soon  mastered, 
and  Marion  had  acquired  at  least  as  good  a  foundation  in  use- 
ful and  necessary  learning,  as  is  given  in  the  District  schools 
of  the  North.  It  is  needless  to  add  that  he  had  acquired 
from  his  mother  and  aunt  the  Dutch  language,  and  as  his 
teachings  from  the  aunt  were  partly  in  that  language,  he  could 
read  and  speak  it  as  well  as  he  could  English.  His  father 
devoted  most  of  his  time  to  the  plantation,  and  to  raising 
horses,  cattle  and  hogs.  His  mother  superintended  the  house- 
hold matters,  and  also  attended  to  the  store.  When  Marion 
was  able  write  and  reckon,  he  became  of  vast  service  to  his 
mother,  and  spent  a  great  portion  of  his  time  in  the  store,  and 
when  customers  were  rare,  he  had  a  book  in  his  hand.  He 
literally  learned  it  by  heart,  and  what  "  he  knew,  he  knew." 

He  continued  until  he  was  nearly  fourteen  years  old.  The 
store  was  quite  an  affair.  The  stock  of  goods  was  limited,  and 
articles  were  bought  in  Charleston  once  a  month,  or  ordered  by 
letter.  The  maze  consisted  of  coarse  dry  goods,  bacon,  coffee, 
sugar,  rice,  whiskey,  tobacco,  pipes,  cigars,  crockery,  soap, 
lead,  butter,  spices,  tin  buckets,  and  coarse  wooden  ware. 

The  customers  were  in  part  the  poor  white  folks,  and  second 
the  negroes  from  the  adjoining  plantations.  Fifteen  thousand 
negroes  at  least,  looked  to  that  store  for  their  little  luxuries, 
and  the  happiness  that  this  store  conferred,  can  hardly  be  re- 
alized. Here,  sometimes,  the  slave  would  come  at  midnight, 
having  travelled  ten  miles,  with  ten  more  to  go  before  he  got 


20  •  VIGOR. 

back  again  to  his  home,  and  perhaps  he ,  would  have  walked 
all  the  distance  to  get  a  "  fourpence  "  worth  of  tobacco  for  his 
little  bag  of  corn.  When  he  got  it,  he  was  a  happy  fellow. 
Sometimes  forty  or  fifty  would  come  together,  and  then 
some  care  and  caution  had  to  be  exercised,  for  in  such  a  force 
in  the  store  at  one  time,  the  temptation  to  steal  was  too  great 
to  be  resisted.  Each  took  his  turn,  while  the  rest  remained 
outside.  Marion  became  quite  a  favorite  with  those  negroes, 
and  it  was  really  a  pleasure  to  him  to  get  up  and  wait  upon  a 
tired  customer  even  for  the  most  trivial  article.  The  pay  was 
in  corn.  Sometimes  the  negro  had  received  money  for  his 
corn,  and  then  he  had  cash.  If  it  was  a  bill  of  five  or  ten 
dollars,  the  slave  asked  it  to  be  changed  into  silver,  and  when 
that  was  done,  he  knew  what  he  was  about,  and  trade  com- 
menced. "  How  much  for  dat  tin  biggin  ?" 

"  Seven  pence." 

"  I  tax  urn,"  and  the  quarter  would  be  handed  in  by  the 
purchaser,  and  then  change  given.  Trade  would  then  com- 
mcnce  again. 

"  How  much  you  ax  for  dat  spider  ?" 

"  Quarter  dollar." 

"  Quatah  dollah.     I  gib  ten  pence  for  him." 

"  Take  it."     Pay  and  take  change  again. 

"  Gib  me  one  and  ninepence  worth  of  tobacco." 

And  so  trade  goes  on,  paying  for  every  article  as  he  buys  it, 
from  a  dollar's  worth  of  homespun  to  a  cent  cigar,  and  per- 
haps he  goes  to  the  plantation  where  he  belongs  loaded  with 
small  things — and  no  father  of  a  family,  or  patronesses  of 
Stewart  in  New  York,  ever  enjoyed  spending  money  so  much 
as  these  slaves.  If  it  was  corn  he  brought  to  trade  with,  then 
he  had  it  measured.  Suppose  it  was  two  bushels.  The  price 
has  been  seventy-five  cents,  and  never  varies  in  the  negro 
trade  if  corn  is  worth  in  Charleston  only  fifty  cents  or  a  dollar. 
Then  he  pays  for  his  goods  with  corn — a  peck,  four  quarts,  two 
quarts,  as  the  case  or  price  may  be  of  the  article  bought,  and 
never  makes  a  blunder. 

Now  and  then  two  negroes  are  in  partnership,  or  some  negro 
who  could  not  come,  has  sent  his  corn  by  a  friend.  The  bearer 
of  the  corn  for  another  gets  what  is  wanted,  and  never  mixes  it 
up  with  his  own-  transactions.  How  it  is  done,  no  bookkeeper 
in  a  bank  could  tell.  Sometimes  in  financial  transactions  the 
red  corncob  is  used  as  a  matter  of  security.  One  negro  owes 
another.  They  deposit  a  red  corncob  in  the  hands  of  a  third 
party  as  an  evidence  of  money  loaned  or  a  debt  due.  The  per- 


VIGOR.  21 

son  who  receives  this  corncob  never  gives  it  up  until  the  debt 
is  paid  or  cancelled,  and  then  it  is  done  in  the  presence  of  the 
two  parties  interested.  It  is  a  sort  of  red  corncob  bond  and 
mortgage,  and  the  parties  can't  get  over  it.  It  is  rarely  set 
aside,  even  by  poor  white  people. 

The  attachment  of  the  negroes  to  this  store  was  wonderful. 
It  was  what  they  looked  forward  to,  when  they  had  cash  or 
corn,  as  a  great  blessing  in  their  existence.  As  an  evidence 
of  this,  when  Marion  was  about  twelve  years  old,  the  family 
were  woke  up  about  two  o'clock  one  morning,  by  a  bright  blaze. 
The  store  was  on  fire — and  in  less  than  two  hours,  being  built 
of  pitch  pine,  it  was  in  ashes.  Five  thousand  negroes  were  on 
the  ground  before  it  finished  burning,  and  then  came  sympathy 
and  anxiety  for  it  to  be  rebuilt.  The  negroes  for  two  weeks 
poured  in  from  all  quarters  at  odd  hours  which  were  their  own. 
Carpenters  from  all  the  plantations  volunteered.  Others  went 
into  the  woods  with  axes,  and  cut  down  trees,  and  hewed  them 
into  their  proper  size. 

Before  two  weeks  had  passed  the  store  was  rebuilt  again, 
twice  its  former  size  ;  and  when  it  would  have  cost,  under  ordi- 
nary circumstances,  four  hundred  dollars  to  rebuild  it,  it  did 
not  cost  Mr.  Monck  fifty  dollars — and  then  it  was  for  nails,  and 
things  the  negroes  could  not  furnish.  When  it  was  ready  to 
receive  goods,  Mr.  Monck  went  to  Charleston  and  bought  them, 
and  when  the  store  was  re-opened  again,  there  was  as  general 
a  rejoicing  among  fifteen  thousand  negroes  and  negresses, 
young  and  old,  as  if  each  one  had  had  an  individual  interest  in 
the  affair.  It  was  a  "  want."  They  missed  it.  It  was  their 
place  of  resort  for  luxury  and  comfort,  and  they  could  not  get 
along  without  it.  The  dark  lover,  when  he  was  about  to  wed 
a  darkey  bride,  could  get  the  rings  at  the  store,  and  a  bottle  of 
cologne,  a  comb,  papers  of  pins,  or  any  little  article,  that,  when 
purchased,  gave  more  real  happiness  than  a  thousand  dollar 
shawl  in  other  circles  of  society. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

Parting  from  Home  and  from  Parents — His  stay  in  Charhston — Arrival 
in  Ntw  York. 

To  leave  a  loved  home,  loved  parents,  loved  friends,  and 
long-loved  associations,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  to  wander  forth 
into  the  great  world  with  the  design  of  acquiring  an  education, 
a  livelihood,  a  profession,  a  fortune,  or  any  other  of  the  thou- 


22  VIGOR. 

sand  and  one  objects  of  human  ambition,  is  a  serious  matter. 
Long  and  earnestly  had  Marion  Monck  communed  with  him- 
self, and  dreamed  by  day  as  well  as  by  night  of  his  future. 
His  mind  was  made  up  to  leave  home.  Young  as  he  was,  he 
knew  and  felt  that  his  father,  his  family  and  himself  could  only 
hold  a  second  rate  position  in  white  society.  He  could  not 
rank  or  associate  on  an  equality  with  the  rich  planter,  and  he 
was  somewhat  in  advance  of  the  poor  white  class.  He  was 
occupying  a  sort  of  mongrel  white  rank,  betwixt  and  between 
the  two  white  extremes.  Marion  felt  within  himself  that  he 
had  talent  and  genius,  and  it  urged  him  on  to  seek  a  larger 
field. 

At  last  he  gained  the  consent  of  his  parents  that  he  should 
leave  home,  and  seek  an  occupation  elsewhere,  where  he  could 
see  and  learn  more  of  the  world.  Worthy  Mr.  Monck  wished 
his  son  to  seek  employment  with  some  merchant  in  Charleston, 
as  he  honestly  thought  that  Marion's  experience  in  the  store 
at  Monck's  Corners  would  have  been  a  good  preparatory  school 
for  a  merchant's  counting-room.  Marion  promised  that  in  six 
months  he  would  come  back  and  see  them — perhaps  sooner. 
The  mother  packed  his  trunk,  placing  a  Bible  in  a  flannel  shirt 
carefully,  gave  her  son  a  few  crying  kisses,  and  Mr.  Monck 
drove  off  with  him  en  route  for  Charleston.  On  their  arrival 
at  their  destination  Mr.  Monck  found  quarters  for  Marion  with 
a  friend,  and  ttye  same  day  started  on  his  return  home. 

Charleston  was  then,  is  now,  and  will  b«  fifty  years  hence 
the  same  Charleston.  The  quicksand  bar  is  still  there,  shift- 
ing and  changing  about — the  old  houses  grow  a  little  older — 
the  mass  of  the  old  wooden  tenements  gets  thicker  and  more 
impervious  every  year — the  bell  to  call  in  the  negroes  rings 
at  a  quarter  to  nine,  and  the  drum  beats  at  the  guard-house  at 
a  quarter  to  ten,  to  say  that  all  negroes  out  after  that  hour 
without  a  pass  from  their  masters,  if  they  are  slaves,  or  from 
their  guardians,  if  they  are  free,  will  be  locked  up  in  the 
guard-house  for  the  night,  and  taken  before  the  Mayor  in  the 
morning.  The  yellow  fever  makes  its  appearance  every  two 
or  three  years,  just  when  the  Charleston  people,  because  it  has 
missed  a  year,  have  begun  to  indulge  the  hope  that  it  will  keep 
away  five  years,  and  give  their  favorite  city  a  chance  to  loom 
up  in  the  commercial  world.  But  no — it  seems  almost  hope- 
less ;  and  the  dread  of  yellow  fever  is  like  an  incubus  upon 
the  city,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  it  will  ever  be  taken  off. 

For  more  than  a  week  Marion  Monck  roamed  about  Charles- 
ton, seeking  employment  in  some  commercial  business.  Per- 


VIGOR.  23 

baps  it  was  lucky  for  him  that  he  found  no  vacancy.  No  one 
wanted  a  clerk  of  his  size,  shape  or  make.  One  beautiful 
morning  he  wandered  down  about  the  wharves,  and  was  admir- 
ing a  stately  ship.  She  was  loading  for  New  York.  The  idea 
flashed  across  his  mind  whether  his  chances  would  not  be  bet- 
ter in  New  York  than  in  Charleston.  He  answered  it  by 
going  on  board  and  ascertaining  the  price  of  passage.  It  was 
within  his  means,  and  would  still  leave  him  something  in  his 
pocket  to  keep  afloat  a  few  days  in  New- York.  The  ship  was 
to  sail  the  next  day.  Her  name  was  the  Saluda,  and  her  com- 
mander was  the  man  who  had  traded  so  long  between  Charles- 
ton and  New  York,  that  in  the  latter  place  he  is  known  by  no 
other  nahie  than  the  Charleston  "  Berry."  Long  ago  he  left 
the  ship  line,  and  has  built  and  commanded  every  steamer  that 
has  voyaged  from  Charleston  to  New  York.  May  he  command 
steamers  between  the  two  cities  for  a  thousand  years  more  ! 

Marion  returned  from  Adger's  wharf  to  the  house  where  he 
boarded,  and  announced  to  the  worthy  Mrs.  Ferguson,  the  land- 
lady, that  he  had  half  made  up  his  mind  to  put  out  for  New 
York  the  next  day. 

"  Wio  do  you  know  there,  young  Monck  ?"  was  her  imme- 
diate question. 

"  Nobody." 

"  Indeed  !  And  pray  how  will  you  get  along  without  being 
acquainted  with  anybody  or  somebody  ?" 

Marion  reflected,  and  replied,  "  Well,  I  have  had  no  success 
to  my  wishes  in  this  town,  where  I  do  know  a  great  maii.y  peo- 
ple, who  knows  but  that  I  may  find  a  situation  among  those 
who  don't  know  me  or  that  I  don't  know  ?" 

And  quick  as  lightning,  the  idea  made  him  decide  to  go  to 
New  York;  and  he  told  the  worthy  lady,  in  the  most  flat- 
footed  and  decided  manner  that  he  should  embark  for  New 
York  in  the  good  ship  Saluda,  Captain  Berry,  the  next  day. 

"  Well,  my  brave  boy,  if  you  will  go,  I  will  give  you  one 
letter  that  may  be  of  service  to  you.  I  have  a  niece  in  New 
York  who  is  married  to  a  merchant  there.  She  is  a  Charles- 
tonian,  named  Bessy  Nordheim,  and  will  give  a  helping  hand, 
if  need  be,  to  a  South  Carolina  boy." 

Marion  expressed  his  thanks,  and  immediately  returned  to 
the  ship  and  paid  his  passage.  That  night  his  landlady  wrote 
the  letter,  and  he  placed  it  carefully  in  his  trunk.  The  next 
morning,  bright  and  early,  he  and  his  trunk  were  on  board  the 
Saluda,  and  before  meridian  the  ship  had  passed  over  the  bar, 
bound  to  New  York. 


24  VIGOR. 

It  is  useless  to  give  a  description  of  a  sea  voyage  of  eight 
days'  duration.  Marion  was  intensely  sea- sick  for  two  days, 
and  it  did  him  more  good  than  fifty  boxes  of  Brandreth's  pills 
would  have  done.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  eighth  day,  the 
ship  Saluda  was  moored  alongside  the  dock  in  Burling  Slip, 
and  Marion  hired  a  cartman,  and  with  his  trunk  proceeded  to 
a  boarding  house  in  Liberty  street  near  Greenwich,  to  which 
he  had  been  recommended  by  a  fellow  passenger.  It  was 
nearly  dark  when  he  got  fairly  established  in  his  room,  and 
after  he  had  taken  a  boarding-house  tea,  he  did  the  most  sen- 
sible thing  a  young  stranger  who  made  his  first  visit  could  do 
at  night,  viz.,  he  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Marion  Monck  in  New  York — fre'ents  his  Letter  of  Introduction — Procures 
a  situation  with  Granvtlle  and  Nordheim — Home  of  Air.  Nordheim,  in  Bond 
Street— The  Character  of  the  Wife. 

WHEN  Marion  arose  from  his  bed  on  the  morning  qfter  his 
arrival,  his  head  was  so  confused  by  the  multiplicity  of  noises 
which  he  had  listened  to  from  long  before  daybreak,  that  he 
could  with  difficulty  comprehend  where  he  really  was.  But  at 
last  his  lonesome  position,  in  a  strange  city,  broke  with  full 
force  upon  bis  mind.  He  thought  of  his  distant  home  and 
loving  parents,  and  cried.  He  could  not  help  it.  He  was  in 
a  great  city,  without  one  solitary  friend.  Bye-and-bye  he 
dressed  himself,  descended  to  the  breakfast  room,  and  after 
drinking  a  cup  of  strong  coffee,  felt  decidedly  better,  and  much 
more  energetic  than  he  had  felt  since  he  left  Monck's  Corners. 

The  landlady  cautioned  him  against  getting  lost,  as  soon  as 
Marion  told  her  that  he  had  never  been  in  the  city  before,  and 
he  started  out  to  try  his  fortune  in  New  York.  He  wandered 
about  until  dinner-time,  staring  at  the  million  of  novelties  that 
his  eye  encountered,  and  then  he  returned  home,  and  went  at 
once  to  his  trunk  to  get  the  letter  of  introduction  that  his 
Charleston  landlady  had  given  him.  He  had  hardly  looked  at 
the  address  before,  but  now  he  regarded  it  as  of  some  impor- 
tance. It  was  directed  to  a  house  in  Bond  street,  and  he  found 
his  way  up  there,  and  before  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he 
had  presented  the  letter  of  introduction  to  the  lady  to  whom 
it  was  addressed.  She  received  him  in  a  very  cordial  man- 
ner, insisted  that  he  should  stay  to  tea,  and  become  acquainted 


VIGOR.  25 

with  her  husband,  Mr.  Nordheim,  who,  she  said,  had  resided 
in  Charleston  some  time,  and  who  was  engaged  in  a  large  busi- 
ness in  Broad  street.  Marion  felt  that  there  was  a  hope,  and 
so  he  did  as  Mrs.  Nordheim  wished. 

It  was  nearly  half-past  seven  before  the  husband  came  home, 
and  then  the  wife  introduced  Marion,  and  showed  the  letter 
from  her  Charleston  relative.  Mr.  Nordheim  was  very  cor- 
dial, and  joined  his  wife  when  she  insisted  that  Marion  should 
take  tea  with  them  and  spend  the  evening.  It  was  not  long 
before  Marion  discovered  that  Ferdinand  Nordheim  was  an 
Israelite. 

Conversation  turned  upon  Marion's  prospects  ;  and  when  he 
stated  that  he  was  anxious  to  get  a  situation  in  a  counting-room 
or  store,  Mr.  Nordheim  observed  that  the  firm  of  Granville  and 
Nordheim,  of  which  he  was  a  partner,  wanted  a  clerk.  "  I 
leave  these  matters  to  my  partner,"  said  he  ;  "  but  in  this 
case,  if  you  will  meet  me  at  my  store  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow 
morning,  I  will  make  you  acquainted  with  my  partner,  Mr.  Gran- 
ville, and  I  dare  say  some  arrangement  satisfactory  to  you 
may  be  made.  I  will  tell  him  how  I  became  acquainted  with 
you,  and  your  own  rather  prepossessing  appearance  must  do 
the  rest.  If  he  is  willing  to  cngnge  you  in  our  service,  I  shall 
make  no  objection  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  will  willingly  employ 
you." 

The  heart  of  Marion  beat  quick — and  after  the  evening  meal 
was  concluded,  Mr.  Nordheim,  that  there  might  be  no  mistake, 
wrote  down  the  address,  "  Granville  and  Nordheim,  corner  of 
Broad  and  Garden  street,"  and  Marion  took  his  leave. 

At  precisely  ten  o'clock  he  was  in  the  counting-room  of  Mr. 
Nordheim.  That  gentleman  introduced  him  to  Mr.  Granville, 
with  such  explanations  as  were  necessary,  and  Mr.  Granville 
led  the  way  into  his  private  office.  After  cross-questioning 
Marion  for  some  time,  he  appeared  to  be  quite  satisfied  as  to 
his  capability,  and  observed  "  It  will  take  some  time  before 
you  can  be  of  much  service,  but  you  look  as  though  you  would 
try  and  learn  fast;  and  although  it  is  not  customary  with 
heavy  houses  to  pay  any  salary  for  two  or  three  years — (Ma- 
rion was  all  aghast) — don't  be  alarmed  ;  in  your  case,  under 
the  circumstances,  we  will  vary  from  the  custom,  and  give  you 
a  salary  the  first  year.  What  will  it  cost  you  to  live  here  ?" 

Marion  had  no  idea.  Supposed  he  could  board  fcr  one  or 
two  dollars  a  week. 

Mr.  Granville  smiled. 

"  Probably  four  or  five   dollars  will  be  nearer  the  mark. 

2 


26  VIGOR. 

However,  we  will  make  an  engagement  with  you  for  four  years, 
and  give  you  $250  the  first  year,  $300  the  second,  $400  the 
third,  and  $500  the  fourth  year.  After  that  your  services  will 
be  worth  whatever  you  choose  to  make  them,  if  you  get  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  business  meanwhile.  Are  you 
satisfied  ?" 

"  Perfectly,  and  am  very  thankful,"  said  poor  Marion. 

"  Very  well — then  come  with  me."  And  he  left  his  private 
office  for  the  general  counting-room,  where  seven  or  eight 
clerks  seemed  to  be  very  busy.  He  addressed  an  elderly 
clerk  : 

"  Mr.  Wilson,  this  young  gentleman  will  come  into  our  office 
to-morrow.  His  name  is  Marion  Monck.  You  must  try  and 
make  something  of  him." 

Mr.  Wilson  bowed,  and  after  having  given  some  instruction 
to  Marion  as  to  the  hour  next  day  when  he  would  be  expected, 
went  on  writing  his  books.  Marion  quietly  took  his  departure, 
and  went  at  once  to  his  room,  and  wrote  a  letter  to  his  father 
and  mother.  The  next  day  he  was  regularly  installed  as  a 
clerk  with  Granville  and  Nordheim. 

Mr.  Wilson,  the  bookkeeper,  explained  to  him  his  duties, 
and  stated  that  as  he  was  the  junior  clerk,  it  would  be  neces- 
sary for  him  to  commence  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder,  and 
work  his  way  up.  He  was  obliged  to  open  the  store,  put  the 
books  in  the  safe  at  night,  lock  it  up,  and  give  the  key  to  the 
bookkeeper,  and  stay  and  see  the  porter  shut  up  the  store  at 
night.  He  was  also  post-office  clerk,  had  to  °;o  with  letters  to 
the  office,  and  bring  all  letters  in  Box  910  to  the  office  of  Gran- 
ville and  Nordheim.  Marion  went  through  the  first  day  with 
real  satisfaction  to  himself  and  his  employers.  His  modest 
willingness  to  do  anything  that  he  was  called  upon  to  do,  had 
already  secured  to  him  the  good  feeling  of  the  bookkeeper  and 
the  other  clerks. 

The  store  was  closed  before  dark  the  first  day.  In  fact,  such 
was  the  usual  habit,  except  on  "  packet  nights,"  and  then  it 
was  kept  open  until  ten  or  eleven  o'clock.  Marion  received 
the  keys  from  the  porter,  and  proceeded  to  his  home,  No.  119 
Liberty  street.  He  told  his  success  to  the  landlady,  Mrs. 
Birch,  and  she  congratulated  him  warmly,  adding,  "  You  owe 
much  to  the  lady  who  received  you  so  kindly,  and  who  was  the 
means  of  procuring  you  the  place.  I  have  known  young  lads 
wait  months  to  get  a  situation,  and  then  not  so  good  a  one  as 
you  have  secured  in  two  days.  Have  you  been  up  town  to 
thank  the  kind  lady  in  Bond  street  ?" 


VIGOR.  27 

Marion  replied  that  he  had  not. 

"  Then  you  ought  to  go  at  once.  Gratitude  costs  but  little 
in  your  case." 

These  few  words  set  Marion  to  thinking.  He  was  merely  a 
clerk.  Was  it  right  to  go  and  pay  a  •visit  at  the  private  resi- 
dence of  his  employer  ?  "  Well,"  thought  Marion,  "  she  asked 
me  kindly  to  call  when  I  got  fixed  in  a  place.  I  am  fixed,  and 
through  her  kindness.  I  will  go  up  and  see  and  thank  her  to- 
night." An  hour  afterwards  he  was  on  the  steps  of  a  large 
three  story  brick  house  in  Bond  street,  and  had  pulled  the 
bell-knob.  A  negro  woman  came  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 

"  Is  Mr.  Nordheim  at  home  1" 

"  No — Massa  hain't  come  in  yet.     Missis  is  in." 

"  Go  and  tell  her  Marion  Monck  would  like  to  see  her." 

In  a  moment  Mrs.  Nordheim  herself  came  out  of  the  parlor, 
and  taking  Marion  by  the  hand,  led  him  back  into  it,  and 
placed  him  by  her  side  on  a  luxurious  sofa. 

"Well,  what  luck,  Marion  ?" 

"  Thanks  to  you,  dear  lady,  I  am  engaged  for  four  years  by 
your  husband's  firm — but  has  he  not  told  you  ?" 

"  He — my  husband — no.  I  have  not  seen  him  since  morn- 
ing. Sometimes  I  do  not  see  him  for  two  or  three  days  and 
nights  together  " — and  noticing  Marion's  look  of  astonishment, 
she  added,  "  He  has  so  much  to  do  at  times,  and  frequently 
has  to  visit  neighboring  cities  on  business — but  never  mind 
him.  I  ana  so  glad  you  have  come  up  to-night.  I  want  to 
talk  to  you  about  Charleston — about  your  home  and  parents, 
and  South  Carolina  matters  generally.  But  you  must  have 
some  tea  " — and  she  jumped  up,  and  pulled  the  bell.  It  was 
answered  by  another  negro  girl,  who  took  the  order. 

Marion  again  thanked  her  for  being  the  means  of  getting 
him  a  place,  and  told  her  that  she  did  not  knt>w  how  happy  it 
had  made  him — that  but  for  her  he  should  have  had  a  wretch- 
ed, anxious  time  of  it.  "  And  you  must  tell  me  how  to  show 
my  gratitude,"  he  added. 

Again  she  took  both  of  his  hands  in  her  own  delicate  •white 
ones,  and  pressed  them  closely.  "  Say  no  more  about  it.  I 
need  just  such  a  friend  as  you  will  be,  and  if  you  are  grateful, 
as  you  say,  you  will  be  able  to  do  a  thousand  kindnesses  for 
me.  You  must  come  here  as  often  as  you  can.  I  am  sadly  in 
want  of  a  beau ;  and  as  you  are  so  young,  and  from  my  own 
State  too,  I  am  sure  Mr.  Nordheim  will  not  be  jealous  of  you, 
and  will  let  me  go  out  with  you  for  an  escort  whenever  I 
please.  It  is  very  rare  now  that  he  goes  out  with  me  himself." 


28  VIGOR. 

The  ice  was  broken,  and  before  the  tea  was  served  they 
were  chatting  as  familiarly  as  a  couple  of  children — add,  in 
truth,  they  were  both  children. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Marion  ?"  she  asked. 

'•'  I  was  fourteen  last  second  of  December,  and  it  is  April 
now,  Mrs.  Nordheim." 

"  There,  stop — don't  call  me  Mrs.  Nordheim — say  Bessy, 
and  I  shall  like  it  and  you  a  great  deal  better." 

Marion  laughed,  and  added,  "Well,  Bessy,  how  old  are  you?" 

"  Guess." 

"  I  cannot.     You  are  married,  and  " 

"  Very  well.  I  am  just  two  years  older  than  your  most 
venerable  self,  Master  Marion.  I  am  but  sixteen  now — just 
old  enough  to  be  your  loving  elder  sister."  And  with  one 
hand  pressed  around  Marion,  with  the  other  she  parted  the 
dark  brown  hair  on  his  white  forehead,  and  pressed  it  with  a 
pure,  loving  kiss.  "  Now,  that  christens  you  my  brother,"  she 
playfully  added.  "  And  this,"  said  Marion,  throwing  one  arm 
fondly  about  her  neck,  and  putting  his  lips  to  hers,  "  makes 
you  my  loved  sister." 

The  blood  rushed  to  the  face  of  the  young  wife,  and  slowly 
disengaging  herself,  she  sprang  up  and  said,  "  Now  for  tea  ;" 
and  they  sat  down  to  the  well-served  table. 

"  Take  Mr.  Nordheim's  seat,  opposite  me,"  said  the  lady. 

Marion  complied. 

"  Have  you  no  sister,  Marion  ?" 

"  None — and  no  brother  either.     I  am  an  only  child." 

"  And  that  is  my  case  precisely,  and  now  we  will  be  brother 
and  sistor  to  each  other.  I  will  love  you  and  you  shall  love 

me,  and  Mr.  Nordheim  " She  stopped.  "  Well,  Mr. 

Nordheim  don't  trouble  me  with  any  of  his  doings,  and  I  don't 
see  why  I  should  bother  him  with  telling  that  I  have  adopted 
a  brother  ; — so,  dear  Marion,  when  Mr.  Nordheim  is  at  home, 
you  must  call  me  '  Madam,'  and  be  as  respectful  to  my  lady- 
ship as  if  I  were  Queen  of  England.  But  you  won't  be  much 
troubled  with  this  formality  on  his  account.  Now  drink  ano- 
ther cup  of  tea.  I  suppose  your  clerkship  is  very  anxious  to 
know  how  I  came  to  marry  Mr.  Nordheim,  and  all  about  it  ?  ' 

Marion  smiled,  and  looked  anxiously  at  the  beautiful  crea- 
ture opposite  to  him.  She  took  her  hands,  and  flung  back 
from  each  side  o,f  her  face  the  masses  of 'dark,  beautiful  curls 
that  partly  concealed  her  features,  and  completely  covered  her 
snow-white  neck  and  shoulders. 

"  I  look  more  like  a  wild  girl  than  a  dignified  wife,   I  sup- 


VIGOR.  29 

pose.  No  matter.  Mr.  Nordheim  was  pleased  with  my  cliit 
of  a  face,  and  my  long  dark  hair.  I  was  very  poor — dependent 
upon  my  aunt,  and  I  was  tired  of  it.  True,  Mr.  Nordheim  was 
an  Israelite,  but  my  aunt,  like  a  good  prudent  woman  as  she 
is,  before  she  consented — no,  before  she  sold  me,  that  is  the 
right  word — made  Mr.  Nordheim  settle  $2000  a  year  upon  uie 
for  life  ;  and  I  feel  independent,  at  least,  if  I  don't  love  him. 
As  he  don't  beat  me,  I  ain  as  comfortably  off  or  more  so,  than 
I  was  when  dependent  upon  my  aunt.  1  believe  he  behaved 
handsomely  to  my  aunt — that  is,  he  gave  her  $1000  the  day 
we  were  married. — Why,  what  are  you  looking  at  me  so  ear- 
nestly for,  Marion  ? — I  married  Mr.  Nordheim,  became  his 
wife,  and  he  brought  me  on  to  this  big  house.  The  furniture 
is  elegant,  is  it  not  ?  But  you  have  not  seen  it  all  yet.  Now, 
have  you  finished  your  tea  1  Then  let  us  go  back  to  the  sofa." 

Marion  went  with  her  and  took  a  seat  by  her  side. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  all  I  have  told  you  ]"  she  pleasantly 
inquired. 

"  Why,  what  should  I  think,  except  that  you  have  done  what 
pleased  you,  and  I  hope  you  will  be  very  happy." 

Bessy  Nordheim  drew  a  long  sigh,  and  then  made  Marion 
tell-  her  all  his  history,  his  plans  and  prospects. 

"  I  don't  like  your  being  iu  that  boarding-house.  Why,  it 

would  be  much  more We  have  plenty  of  room  in  this 

house.  Why  should  you  not  come  herel  I  will  speak  to  Mr. 
Nordheim  about  it,  but  not  just  yet." 

A  key  was  heard  turning  in  the  door,  and  she  jumped  up 
and  flew  towards  the  hall.  It  was  her  husband. 

"  Here  is  your  new  clerk,  come  to  thank  you  and  me  for  his 
situation,  Ferdinand." 

Mr.  Nordheim  entered  the  parlor,  and  without  further  notice 
of  his  wife,  commenced  talking  to  Marion.  "  I  hope  to  find 
you  very  attentive  to  business.  I  have  a  great  many  things  of 
my  own  to  attend  to,  independent  of  the  firm,  and  I  hope  I 
shall  find  you  ready  to  lend  me  a  hand  when  I  need  it." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Marion.  "  Anything  that  I  can  do  for 
you  it  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  do.  I  owe  you  my  situa- 
tion." 

Mrs.  Nordheim  had  taken  a  seat,  and  listened,  bat  said  nothing. 

"  Where  are  you  boarding  ?"  he  asked. 

"  At  119  Liberty  street." 

Mr.  N.  made  a  note  of  it,  and  carefully  placed  it  in  his 
pocket-book.  "  I  may  want  to  find  you  at  night.  Are  you 
busy  evenings  ?" 


30  VIGOR. 

"  No  sir.     I  have  nothing  to  do." 

Very  good.  I  will  call  at  your  boarding-house,  and  some 
time  it  may  be  necessary  for  you  to  do  some  writing  for  me 
up  here  at  my  house.  In  such  cases  Mrs.  Nordheim  will  have 
a  room  fixed  up  for  you,  and  yon  can  stay  all  night.  I  will 
explain  the  necessity  to  your  landlady  when  I  call  at  the  house." 

Marion  rose  to  take  his  leave — and  as  he  approached  Mrs. 
Nordheim  and  took  her  hand,  he  felt  a  gentle  detention  and 
pressure,  and  a  glance  of  those  beautiful  soft  eyes,  which  said 
as  plainly  as  if  they  could  have  talked,  "  Don't  forget  your  sis- 
ter Bessie."  Mr.  Nordheim  did  not  extend  his  hand,  but 
accompanied  Marion  to  the  door,  and  kindly  bade  him  good 
night.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  the  handsome  intelli- 
gent boy  should  be  made  useful  to  him  in  more  ways  than  one. 

When  he  returned  to  the  parlor,  he  said  somewhat  surlily, 
"  That  boy  owes  his  place  to  me.  I  only  hope  he  will  be 
grateful.  He  is  a  stranger  here,  and  I  must- go  to  his  board- 
ing-house and  see  if  he  is  comfortable.  It  is  my  duty  to  do  so, 
Mrs.  Nordheim." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  ;  but  I  suppose  boarding-houses  are 
not  very  comfortable." 

"  You  ought  to  know  ;" — and  Mr.  Nordheim  sneered  very 
severely.  "  I  believe  your  excellent,  but  somewhat  sharp 
aunt,  Mrs.  Ferguson,  was  engaged  in  keeping  a  house  of  that 
kind,  when  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  be  struck  with  your  silly 
face." 

Bessy's  eyes  were  flashing  fire  under  their  long  dark  lashes. 

"Now,  madam,  I  do  not  expect  that. my  young  friend  will 
be  very  comfortable  at  his  present  location.  You  heard  me 
say  to  him  that  I  shall  probably  require  his  services  up  here 
occasionally  to  do  some  private  writing  for  me,  and  that  I 
should  require  you  to  fix  a  room  for  him.  Now  madam,  let  me 
tell  you,  that  it  is  my  intention,  if  he  is  not  comfortable  where 
he  is,  to  ask  him  to  come  up  here  and  make  it  his  home  alto- 
gether ;  and  let  me  add  decidedly,  madam,  that  I  expect  you 
will  submit  to  my  wishes  in  this  respect,  and  make  no  oppo- 
sition to  them.  You  have  objected  to  my  bringing  any  of  my 
relatives  to  this  house.  He  is  not  a  relative,  but  a  young  boy 
that  will  be  useful  to  me,  and  I  prefer  to  have  him  in  the  same 
house  with  me.  Don't  say  a  word,  madam — T  wi/l  have  it  so." 
And  Mr.  Nordheim,  who  had  worked  himself  into  quite  a  pas- 
sion, in  order  to  silence  any  objections  that  he  took  it  for 
granted  his  wife  would  make,  bade  her  good  night,  went  into 
the  hall,  seized  his  hat,  and  then  passed  out  into  the  street. 


VIGOR.  31 

What  a  world  !  Could  Mr.  Nwdheim  have  looked  back  into 
the  parlor,  and  have  seen  that  elegant  form,  with  one  foot 
pressed  forward,  her  figure  erect,  her  eyes  sparkling  with  ex- 
citement, as  she  flung  back  the  long  curling  tresses  which  she 
had  allowed  to  cover  and  conceal  her  delighted  face  while  he 
was  talking  with  her,  he  might  have  thought  that  his  deter- 
mined purpose  was  not  so  obnoxious  to  his  girlish  wife  as  he 
imagined.  She  burst  out  into  a  merry,  happy  laugh  as  she 
heard  the  street  .door  close,  and  exclaimed,  "  Dear,  dear  Ma- 
rion !  I  shall  have  a  brother  with  me,  after  all.  Who  would 
have  thought  that  Mr.  Nordheim  himself  would  insist  upon  his 
being  here,  when  I  hardly  dared  to  ask  it !"  She  was  as  in- 
nocent and  pure  as  an  unborn  babe,  and  it  was  a  sister's  love 
she  thought  she  felt  for  the  handsome  boy. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Mr.  Monck  moves  to  Bond  Street,  and  resides  wi/h  Mr.  Nordheim  —  The   Mcr- 
ibrary  Association  —  JEfjw  to  learn  Languages. 


THE  new  clerk  improved  in  his  capacity  for  general  use- 
fulness every  week,  but  he  had  been  nearly  a  month  at  his 
new  place,  before  Mr.  Nordheim  carried  out  the  idea  expressed 
to  his  wife.  He  then  called  on  Mrs.  Birch,  in  Liberty  street, 
and  apparently  was  not  satisfied  with  the  place  selected  for 
Marion.  He  informed  the  landlady  that  it  would  be  more 
convenient  to  have  Marion  at  his  own  residence.  He  paid  her 
bill,  and  when  he  returned  to  the  office  of  G-ranville  &  Nord- 
heim, he  informed  Marion  of  what  he  had  done,  and  told  him 
to  hire  a  cart,  and  remove  his  baggage  to  Bond  street  that 
night.  It  was  Saturday. 

"  Here  is  a  note,  Marion,  that  I  wish  you  to  deliver  to  Mrs. 
Nordheim.  It  informs  her  that  I  am  obliged  to  go  to  Phila- 
delphia this  evening,  and  may  not  return  until  the  middle  of 
next  week.  I  wish  you  to  take  good  care  of  matters  at  my 
house.  If  any  thing  is  needed,  get  the  money  from  Mrs. 
Nordheim  and  procure  it.  If  she  wishes  to  go  any  where  — 
to  church  —  to  any  place  of  amusement,  you  will  go  with  her. 
In  this  note  to  her,  I  have  written  my  wishes  as  I  have  ver- 
bally stated  them  to  you  ;  I  hope  you  will  be  pleased  with 
your  new  home." 

He  bowed  and  left  the  office  before  Marion  had  any  time  to 


32  VIGOR. 

make  any  comment.  As  soon  as  the  store  was  closed  that 
evening-,  he  engaged  a  hack  and  went  to  Liberty  street,  hade 
his  landlady  good  bye,  and  with  his  trunk  proceeded  to  Bond 
street. 

The  hackman  had  carried  his  trunk  into  the  hall  before  Mrs. 
Nordheim  made  her  appearance.  She  seemed  a  little  sur- 
prised at  the  trunk,  but  when  Marion  had  shaken  hands  with 
hed,  and  she  had  read  her  husband's  note,  her  features  as- 
sumed a  different  apperrance,  and  were  covered  with  rosy 
blushes. 

"  How  beautiful  you  do  look,  Bessy,''  was  the  involuntary 
exclamation  of  Marion  as  he  was  led  by  her  into  the  parlor. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Truant,  give  an  account  of  yourself,  why  have 
you  kept  away  from  here  a  long  month  ?" 

Marion  said  he  did  not  see  how  he  could  come  with  any 
propriety,  as  Mr.  Nordheim  had  told  him  weeks  ago,  that  he 
was  to  come — until  the  latter  directed  him  to  do  so,  as  definite- 
ly as  he  had  that  day. 

"  And  now  that  you  have  come,  I  am  going  to  make  the  most 
of  you,  brother  dear.  Mr.  Nordheim  writes  that  you  are  to 
escort  me  wherever  iTwant  to  go,  and  be  my  protector  while 
lie  is  gone.  Good.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  my  husband. 
Next.  I  am  to  fix  up  your  room  in  the  most  comfortable 
manner,  and  not  to  fail  to  treat  you  with  the  utmost  kindness 
— you  see,  sir,  I  quote  from  the  note.  In  the  first  place,  I 
fancy  that  I  have  already  made  your  room  very  cosy,  as  I  had 
a  hint  this  morning  from  my  lord  and  master,  that  you  would 
probably  come,  and  as  for  treating  you  with  kindness,  why, 
you  ungrateful  brother,  after  such  a  long  absence,  and  such 
sisterly  kindness,  have  you  no  reward  to  offer  me  ?"  and,  as 
she  put  her  pretty  pouting  red  lips  in  close  proximity  to  Ma- 
rion's, he  could  do  no  less  than  put  his  arms  around  her,  draw 
her  close  to  his  breast,  and  press  the  lips  to  his  own. 

"  There,  dear  Marion,  that  will  do,  and  now  I  will  go  and 
superintend  the  making-tea  department,  and  you  shall  have  a 
supper  such  as  I  dare  say  you  need." 

Had  Marion  Monck  and  Bessy  Nordheim  really  been  brother 
and  sister,  it  is  not  probable  that  they  would  have  exhibited  a 
stronger  attachment  for  each  other.  The  next  day  was  Sunday. 
Marion  accompanied  her  to  church,  and  almost  every  night  he 
went  with  her  to  some  place  of  amusement,  or  called  withh  :r 
upon  some  of  her  extremely  limited  circle  of  acquaintances. 
Mr.  Nordheim  did  not  come  to  his  home  for  a  week,  and  during 
his  absence  Marion  had  made  himself  completely  at  home,  and 


VIGOR.  33 

his  attention  to  the  duties  of  the  store  were  from  very  early  in 
the  morning  until  sometimes  a  late  hour  at  night.  Mr,, Wilson 
the  book-keeper  had  promoted  him  to  copying  letters,  and  to 
making  duplicates  of  letters  and  invoices.  As  Marion  wrote  a 
neat  mercantile  hand,  it  was  no  great  hardship.  Marion  also 
found  work  at  the  dwelling  house  of  Mr.  Nordheim.  That  gen- 
tleman was,  as  I  have  stated,  an  Israelite,  and  had  inherited  a 
large  property  from  his  father,  who  had  died  about  two  years 
previously  at  Amsterdam  in  Holland.  When  he  discovered 
that  Marion  could  read  and  write  Dutch,  he  was  overjoyed,  and 
Marion  for  months  worked  several  hours  at  night  in  copying 
important  papers  in  that  language  of  a  private  nature  for  Mr. 
Nordheim  The  latter  bought  a  nice  desk,  and  had  it  placed 
in  Marion's  room.  Frequently  Mrs.  Nordheim  would  sit  and 
chat  with  him,  while  hard  at  his  work.  She  was  as  fascinating 
in  her  conversation  as  she  was  beautiful  and  attractive  in  her 
appearance,  although  she  did  not  seem  to  be  aware  of  it.  Ma- 
rion regarded  her  as  a  sister,  and  treated  her  as  he  would  a 
sister.  He  would  catch  her  and  draw  her  upon  his  knees,  and 
make  perfectly  free  with  her  balmy  mouth  and  lips.  Some- 
times if  her  magnificent  hair  had  been  carefully  arranged,  he 
would  pull  out  the  combs  and  fastenings,  throw  it  loose  over 
her,  and  comb  it  with  the  finger  of  one  hand,  while  he  contin- 
ued writing  with  the  other.  Bessy  would  call  him  her  teasing 
brother,  and  then  select  one  of  her  combs,  would  carefully 
comb  his  hair,  without  preventing  his  writing.  Did  a  thought 
of  wrong  cross  their  minds  ?  No.  She  had  been  isolated 
first  in  her  aunt's  boarding-house,  and  secondly  in  the  cold 
home  of  her  husband.  She  placed  Marion  on  the  footing  of  a 
brother.  He  had  brought  the  first  sunshine  to  her  cheerless 
home.  She  had  something  to  pet,  fondle  and  caress.  She 
never  thought  it  wrong,  never  analyzed  her  feelings,  and  hard- 
ly took  the  trouble  to  control  or  conceal  them  before  Mr.  Nord- 
heim. Marion  was  in  a  new  home — he  who  had  been  petted 
all  his  life,  and  Bessy  was  the  only  one  who  brought  love  and 
home — or  home  love,  back  again  to  his  mind.  He  appeared 
to  regard  her  affectionate  kindness  and  caresses  as  he  would 
those  of  his  aunt  or  his  mother.  He  was  too  young  to  dream 
or  think  of  love.  Both  were  happy,  for  both  were  innocent  in 
thought  or  word  as  well  as  deed. 

Mr.  Nordheim  was  a  man  whose  age  must  have  been  nearly 
forty  years.  He  was  of  small  stature,  with  dark,  piercing, 
oriental  sort  of  eyes,  and  a  nose  that  clearly  told  his  Hebrew 
origin.  He  spoke  English  with  great  purity,  and  one  could 


34  VIGOR. 

hardly  have  imagined  that  Dutch  had  been  the  language  of  his 
boyhoocj.  He  was  short-sighted,  and  wore  a  pair  of  gold  spec- 
tacles. His  habits  were  very  irregular,  although  it  was  many 
months  before  Marion  discovered  that  he  was  one  of  the  worst 
of  libertines,  and  that  his  frequent  journeyings  to  other  places 
for  business  purposes,  and  also  his  frequent  absence  for  the 
same  reasons,  were  not  so.  On  the  contrary  he  was  off  in  the 
country,  or  anywhere  else  where  he  could  carry  on  his  nume- 
rous intrigues  without  discovery.  As  he  was  the  principal 
capitalist,  his  partner,  Granville,  if  he  knew  Nordheiui's  weak- 
ness, did  not  notice  it  in  any  manner. 

Marion  Monck  had  not  been  in  the  counting-room  of  Gran- 
ville  and  Nordheim  over  two  months,  before  Mr.  Wilson,  the 
bookkeeper,  asked  him  how  he  was  off  for  books  1 

"  Books  ?"  replied  Marion.  "  I  have  no  book,  save  one,  and 
that  is  a  Dutch  Bible  which  my  mother  placed  in  my  trunk 
•when  I  left  home."  Mr.  Wilson  smiled.  He  probably  re- 
membered his  own  mother  having  made  for  him,  when  a  boy, 
(perhaps  fifty  years  before  this)  a  similar  provision.  "  That  is 
a  valuable  book,  no  question  of  that,"  said  Mr.  Wilson,  "  but, 
Master  Marion,  what  I  meant  is  this,  is  there  any  one  you 
know  who  is  the  possessor  of  books  who  will  lend  them  to  you  to 
read,  otherwise  you  will  have  many  an  idle  hour  hang  heavy 
upon  your  hands."  Marion  said  he  knew  no  one  who  would 
lend  him  books  such  as  he  desired.  "  Mr.  Nordheim  has 
books  at  home."  "  Then  I  propose  that  you  should  at  once 
join  the  Mercantile  Library  Association.  It  was  established 
for  merchants'  clerks,  and  when  once  a  member  you  will  have 
access  to  any  book  or  paper  that  you  need."  Marion  asked  the 
expense  of  joining,  and  when  told  that  it  was  only  the  small 
sum  of  two  dollars  per  annum,  agreed  to  go  with  Mr.  Wilson 
and  be  made  a  member  that  very  night.  The  counting-room 
was  closed  before  six  o'clock,  and  Marion  did  not  go  home, 
but  went  to  get  his  tea  with  Mr.  Wilson,  at  Clark  &  Brown's 
eating:house,  in  Maiden  Lane,  where  Mr.  Wilson,  with  many 
other  Englishmen,  boarded,  and  took  his  meals  when  and 
where  he  pleased.  They  each  had  a  cup  of  tea  and  hot  muf. 
fins,  and  after  these  were  despatched,  they  proceeded  to  Cliff 
street,  where  the  Mercantile  Library  Association  occupied  the 
first  floor  of  number  eighty-two.  It  was  then  poor  and  in  its 
infancy.  Not  long  after,  it  was  removed  to  a  building  in 
Beekmau  street,  Clinton  Hall.  Since  then,  it  has  been  re- 
moved to  the  old  Opera  House  iu  Astor  Place. 

But  to  return  to  the  visit  to  the  Mercantile  Library  Associ- 


VIGOR.  35 

ation.  Mr.  Wilson  introduced  Marion  to  the  Treasurer,  Li- 
brarian, and  one  or  two  of  the  Directors,  and  after  he  had  paid 
the  fees,  received  a  certiGcate  of  membership.  "  Is  there  any 
particular  book  you  desire  ?"  asked  the  Librarian.  "  Yes," 
replied  Marion,  and  he  named  a  French  work  by  Voltaire.  It 
was  given  him  with  a  catalogue  and  the  last  report  of  the  As- 
sociation. As  Mr.  Wilson  and  Marion  went  out  into  the  street, 
Wilson  remarked,  "  Wh}^,  Marion,  the  book  you  selected  is 
printed  in  the  French  language.  Do  you  understand  it  ?" 
"  Not  a  word,"  was  the  reply.  "  You  may  think  it  queer,  Mr. 
Wilson,  but  I  will  read  that  book  before  I  return  it.  The  fact 
is,  Mr.  Wilson,  I  will  read  French,  Spanish  and  German  before 
I  am  two  years  older.  I  understand  Netherland  Dutch  now  as 
well  as  English.  I  will  learn  a  language  after  my  own  method, 
or  rafhcr  one  taught  me  by  Aunt,  who  taught  me  low  Dutch." 

"  What  is  the  method  ?"  enquired  Wilson. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  can  repeat  the  New  Testament  almost 
word  for  word  from  beginning  to  end.  I  have  read  it  so  often, 
and  got  so  many  lessons  from  it  in  former  years  to  oblige  a 
verv  excellent  mother.  You  comprehend  that  part." 

""Very  well." 

"  Within  three  days  I  have  been  to  the  Bible  Society,  and 
they  gave  me  for  a  trifling  sum  a  New  Testament  in  French.  I 
shall  read  that  in  French  until  I  have  it  almost  by  heart.  By 
the  time  I  am  through,  or  before  I  have  been  at  it  a  few  hours, 
I  shall  understand  perhaps  a  thousand  French  words,  and  the 
mode  of  placing  them  without  having  to  refer  to  a  French 
Grammar  or  Dictionary." 

"  That  is  very  clear,"  remarked  Wilson. 

"  Now  I  shall  get  a  dictionary  and  grammar,  read  the  work 
by  Voltaire,  and  what  words  I  cannot  acquire  rapidly  in  the 
New  Testament,  I  shall  get  out  of  the  dictionary.  It  will  not 
be  long  before  I  have  mastered  the  French,  and  the  Spanish 
and  German  will  follow." 

"But  how  will  you  learn  the  pronunciation  of  the  lan- 
guage ?" 

"  By  placing  myself  where  I  can  hear  one  or  the  other  spoken 
incessantly.  But  we  are  up  to  Broadway,  and  I  must  bid  you 
good-night,  and  hurry  up  to  Bond  street." 


VIGOR. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Easiness  Excursion  of  Mr.  Nor dheim — Birth-place  of  Clara  Norris — 
Her  Advent  into  New  York. 

IT  has  already  been  mentioned  that  Mr.  Nordheim  made  fre- 
quent excursions  to  neighboring  cities.  He  gave  out  that 
these  frequent  trips  were  for  commercial  purposes.  His  part- 
ner, Mr.  Granville,  did  not  contradict  such  announcements, 
and  his  family  were  unable  to  do  so. 

October  had  arrived,  and  Marion  Mouck  had  been  living  at 
the  residence  of  Mr.  Nordheim  more  than  four  months,  when 
the  latter  informed  him  that  the  next  morning  he  should  leave 
for  a  distant  State,  and  would  not  probably  return  for  some 
weeks.  Mrs.  Nordheim  was  in  the  parlor  engaged  upon  some 
embroidery  when  her  husband  made  this  business  sort  of  an- 
nouncement, and,  as  usual,  she  made  no  comment  upon  it. 
Turning  to  his  wife,  he  said,  "  Of  course,  my  love,  if  you  want 
money,  you  can  send  word  to  the  office  by  Marion  in  the  usual 
manner,  and  he  will  bring  it  up  to  you."  This  was  said  in  a 
very  sarcastic  manner,  and  a  slight  bend  of  the  magniflccnt 
head  of  the  young  wife  was  the  only  reply.  Soon  after  he  left 
the  house  to  go  to  Pat  Reams',  or  some  other  equally  well 
known  "  Hell,"  or  a  worse  place. 

The  carrying  out  of  our  story  requires  that  the  reader 
should  be  carried  out  of  New  York,  and  taken  to  one  of  the 
most  northern  counties  of  the  state  of  New  Jersey.  It  is 
again  evening,  and  only  two  days  later  than  when  Mr.  Nord- 
heira  told  Marion  that  he  was  to  make  a  business  excursion  the 
next  morning.  It  was  night,  the  tallow  candles  were  lit,  and 
in  the  bar-room  of  a  country  inn  in  Sussex  county  was  the 
well-dressed  Nordheim.  Several  rough-looking  countrymen 
were  loitering  about  the  bar-room,  and  two  were  engaged  in 
playing  dominoes  at  a  pine  table  in  the  corner  of  the  room.  A 
young  and  rather  pretty  girl  was  behind  the  bar,  waiting  upon 
such  customers  as  required  a  glass  of  cider,  or  the  more  potent 
cider  brandy.  Mr.  Nordheim  was  smoking  a  cigar,  and  seated 
near  the  fire  place,  in  which  a  wood  fire  was  burning,  for  the 
weather  in  October  in  a  village  two  thousand  feet  above  tho 


VIGOR.  37 

level  of  the  sea  was  intensely  cold.  The  girl  was  evidently 
about  fifteen  years  of  age,  but  fully  developed.  Every  now 
and  then  she  cast  an  anxious  glance  towards  Mr.  Nordheim, 
and  as  his  eyes  caught  her  own,  she  would  suddenly  drop 
them  and  blush,  scarcely  conscious  why.  Mr.  Nordheim  was 
evidently  an  object  of  curiosity  to  her,  and  the  contrast  be- 
tween his  elegance  and  the  rough  customers  in  the  room  made 
her  wonder  what  his  business  could  be  there.  Presently  an- 
other person  entered  the  room,  and  as  he  stepped  into  the 
bar  he  said,  sternly,  "  Susan,  go  into  the  kitchen  and  help 
your  mother  get  supper." 

"  Have  you  ordered  a  fire  in  my  room  ?"  demanded  Mr. 
Nordheim  of  the  new  comer,  who  was  evidently  the  landlord. 

"  I  have  just  finished  making  it  myself,  and  your  supper 
will  be  ready  presently,"  was  the  reply. 

"Thank  you,"  was  the  reply  of  Nordheim.  and  he  continued 
to  puff  away  at  his  cigar.  Soon  after  Mr.  Nordheim  obtained 
supper  and  then  retired  to  his  room.  He  found  a  good  fire 
blazing  upon  the  hearth,  and  almost  at  once  the  girl  called 
Susan  made  her  appearance  with  a  candle,  which  she  placed 
upon  the  table. 

"  Any  thing  else,  sir  ?"  she  asked. 

"  No,  my  dear — stay,  yes — there  is — T  want  to  ask  you  a 
few  questions.  Are  you  acquainted  with  a  young  lady  in  this 
neighborhood  whose  name  is  Clara  Norris  ?  &it  down,  Su- 
san." 

Susan  took  a  seat  before  she  replied,  in  a  very  low  tone  of 
voice,  "  Oh,  yes,  sir  ;  I  know  her  very  well." 

"  Indeed.  Here,  Susan,  is  a  little  something  to  spend  when 
I  am  gone."  He  placed  in  her  hands  half  a  dollar,  patted  her 
cheeks  pleasantly — "  and  now  tell  me  all  about  Clara.  Is  she 
very  beautiful  ?  is  she  as  pretty  as  you  are  ?'' 

Susan  simpered  and  replied,  "  Oh,  yes  ;  a  thousand  times 
prettier.  Every  body  calls  her  the  Sussex  Lily,  and  indeed, 
sir,  she  is  the  sweetest  girl  in  this  region." 

"  How  old  is  Clara,  should  you  think  ?"  asked  Mr  Nord- 
heim. 

"  I  know  precisely.  She  is  just  one  month  younger  than 
me,  and  I  shall  be  fifteen  next  month.  Do  you  know  her, 
sir  ?"  and  Susan  paused  to  hear  the  answer. 

"  No,  not  exactly,  that  is  to  say,  I  have  not  yet  seen  her.  I 
became  acquainted  with  her  father  last  summer,  and  I  have 
heard  him  speak  of  Clara  so  frequently  that  I  was  almost 
tempted  to  say  I  know  her,  but  I  do  not." 


38  VIGOR. 

"  Oh,  she  is  a  charming  girl.  You  will  like  her  very  much. 
She  is  not  at  all  like  me.  Her  hair  is  light  auburn,  and  very 
long,  and  when  she  wears  it  in  ringlets  it  is  pretty.  She  has  a 
beautiful  figure,  and  her  cheeks  are  as  red  as  roses,  and  her 
skin  is  as  white  as  snow." 

"  Why,  Susan,  you  are  quite  eloquent  in  your  description," 
said  Mr.  Nordheim,  and  he  continued,  "Is  Miss  Clara  com- 
fortable in  her  home  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  indeed,  sir.  Her  father  is  a  drunkard,  and  her 
mother  is  not  much  better — in  fact — worse,  some  say,  but  I 
don't  know  any  thing  about  it.  I  see  poor  Clara  every  Sunday 
at  church,  and  she  looks  very  unhappy,  I  don't  know  how  she 
stands  it.  I  wouldn't.  If  my  father  licked  me  as  her'u  does 
her,  I'd  run  off  and  go  to  York,  but  I  must  go  and  help  get 
supper  for  the  other  boarders." 

"  Stay  one  moment,  Susan,''  and  as  the  girl  stopped  he  slid 
his  arm  around  her  and  gave  her  a  long  kiss  upon  her  mouth. 
"  Oh,  don't,  sir — what — will  " — but  a  half  dozen  kisses  in  suc- 
cession stifled  her  voice,  and  when  Mr.  Nordheim  placed  in 
her  hand  another  silver  half  dollar,  Susan  wiped  her  mouth, 
smoothed  her  ruffled  hair,  and  promised  Mr.  Nordheim  that 
she  would  come  back  as  soon  as  supper  was  over  to  see  if  he 
wanted  any  thing.  Any  of  her  country  beaux  might  have  fid- 
dled around  Susan  six  months  before  her  lips  would  have  given 
one  kiss.  Girls  like  the  man,  be  he  old  or  young,  that  impu- 
dently takes  what  he  wants  without  trifling  or  beating  around 
the  bush.  She  had  left  the  room  but  an  instant  when  her 
father  made  his  appearance.  "  Well,  Van  Ness,  what  is  it  ?" 
asked  Nordheim. 

"  Did  you  send  a  message  by  the  stage-driver  to  old  Bill 
Norris,  up  the  road,  that  you  wished  to  see  him  ?" 

"  I  did.     Has  he  come  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     He  is  down  in  the  bar-room." 

"  Van  Ness,  have  you  any  really  good  liquor,  any  wine  fit  to 
drink  ?  That  cider  brandy  is  vile  stuff." 

"  Yes,  sir,  as  good  as  any  gentleman  need  have,  I  don't  care 
who  or  what  he  is.  I  have  got  the  best  French  brandy,  but  it 
comes  at  two  dollars  the  bottle." 

"  Bring  it  along  if  it  was  five  dollars,  and  here,  by  the  way, 
is  a  five  dollar  gold  piece,  and  if  you  have  a  bottle  of  cham- 
pagne, bring  that  up  also,  and  never  mind  the  change.  Old 
Norris  may  prefer  some  other  drink  besides  brandy  or  wine." 

"  Not  he,  sir.  He  will  never  leave  this  room  as  long  as 
there  is  another  drop  of  that  French  brandy  in  the  bottle." 


VIGOR.  39 

*'  Show  him  up  at  once,  and  then  put  some  more  wood  on  the 
fire." 

A  few  moments  more  and  the  heavy  boots  of  Bill  Norris  ap- 
proached the  door.  "  Come  in,"  exclaimed  Nordheim,  and 
the  old  drunkard  entered.  "  Take  a  seat,  Norris.  I  am  glad 
to  see  you.  I  told  you  at  Dover  last  summer  I  would  couie 
and  see  you  before  Christinas  day." 

"  So  you  have.  I  like  to  see  a  man  who  sticks  to  his  word. 
It  looks  like  business." 

"  True,  Mr.  Norris  :  but  here  is  some  liquor  I  have  ordered. 
It  is  no  use  talking  with  dry  tongues.  Here  is  champagne, 
and  here  is  French  brandy.  Which  will  you  try  ?" 

"  Oh,  give  me  the  brandy.  I  don't  want  any  new  fangled 
stuff  down  my  throat,"  and  he  helped  himself  to  a  stiff  glass  of 
raw  brandy,  and  drank  it  off  at  a  gulp.  It  did  not  even  make 
the  old  toper  wink.  "  Prime  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Now  I  will 
take  another  with  a  little  water  into  it,"  and  he  helped  him- 
self while  Mr  Nordheim  knocked  off  the  neck  of  the  bottle  of 
champagne,  and  as  he  poured  it  foaming  into  the  glass  tumbler 
he  said,  "  Now,  Norris,  I  want  you  to  drink  with  me  to  the 
health  of  that  young  girl  we  talked  so  much  about  at  Dover. 
Here  is  Clara's  health."  Old  Bill  Norris  again  emptied  his 
glass  and  took  a  seat,  and  turning  his  face  full  upon  Mr.  Nord- 
heim, said,  "  So,  so,  mister,  yer  hain't  got  off  that  notion,  eh  ?" 

"  No,  indeed  ;  the  more  I  hear  of  her  the  more  anxious  am  I 
to  come  to  some  understanding  with  you  in  regard  to  her  fu- 
ture welfare.  Where  is  she  now  ?" 

"  At  hum,  or  was  there  half  an  hour  ago." 

"  Bill,  can  any  one  overhear  our  conversation?" 

"  No,  I  reckon  not."  Bill  opened  the  door  and  looked  into 
the  entry  to  see  that  the  coast  was  clear. 

"  When  you  see  my  darter,  if  as  how  you  likes  her,  and  she 
takes  a  kind  of  liking  to  you,  what  do  you  intend  to  do  with 
her  ?  Do  ye  mean  to  marry  her  1  That's  the  pint." 

"  Mr.  Norris,  we  will  talk  of  that  presently,  meanwhile,  I 
want  to  enquire  kindly  of  you  whether  five  hundred  dollars,  if 
given  to  you  by  some  kind  friend,  would  really  be  of  any  ser- 
vice to  you  ?"  remarked  Mr.  Nordheim  in  a  whhper. 

"  What  ?  Just  say  that  over  again,"  and  Bill  was  on  his 
feet. 

"  Keep  perfectly  calm,  Mr.  Norris.  I  have  five  hundred 
dollars  that  I  can  get  by  driving  up  to  the  Sussex  Bank  after 
nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  and  I  could  give  it  to  you 
without  feeling  the  loss." 


40  VIGOR. 

"  Five  hundred  dollars.     Sussex  Bank  bills  !  and" — 

"  Stop  one  moment  more.  I  am  anxious  to  do  that  for  you 
to-morrow.  I  am  anxious  to  do  more  than  that  for  Clara,  if 
you  aid  me  in  the  matter.  I  want  to  take  her  away  from  here, 
however,  and  you  will  lose  her  services.  Of  course  I  expect 
to  pay  you  for  that  loss." 

"  That's  fair.  Five  hundred  dollars.  .  Of  course  I'll  let  her 
go  for  that.  She  will  never  bring  me  any  thing  like  that. 
Five  hundred  dollars  !  Whew  !  What  a  sum.  Why,  it  will 
buy  a  good  sized  house  and  farm,  won't  it?  But  you  hain't 
told  me  one  thing.  What  do  you  want,  to  do  with  the  girl  ? 
Marry  her  ?" 

"  Mr.  Norris,  you  know  it  would  be  imprudent  to  do  so  now. 
What  I  may  do  when  I  have  sent  her  to  school,  I  cannot  tell. 
I  shall  take  her  to  New  York,  place  her  with  a  rich  aunt,  and 
she  will  be  taken  good  care  of.  What  can  I  do  more  ?" 

"  That  is  all  on  the  square.  I  don't  see  what  you  can  do 
fairer,  Mister.  What  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"  Go  home  very  soon.  Talk  the  matter  over  quietly  to 
your  wife.  Get  her  consent.  In  the  morning  I  will  be  up  at 
your  house,  and  have  a  talk  with  Clara,  if  she  consents  to  go 
with  me,  and  the  matter  is  fairly  understood  among  you.  She 
goes  to  Dover  in  the  stage  with  me  to-morrow  evening,  and  I 
will  hand  you  and  your  wife  five  hundred  dollars  before  we 
leave." 

"  It's  a  bargain.  Shake  hands  upon  it.  You  are  a  gentle- 
man, and  do  up  your  business  brown.  I  will  go  now." 

"  Take  some  more  brandy." 

"  Not  a  drop,"  and  Mr.  Norris  left — he  was  really  sober  ; 
the  five  hundred  dollar  proposition  had  fairly  neutralized  the 
effects  of  the  strong  potions  of  alcohol  which  he  had  drank. 

He  had  hardly  got  down  stairs  before  a  light  step  came  up 
them,  and  Susan  came  in,  shutting  the  door  behind  her.  "  I 
came  up  to  see  if  you  needed  any  thing,"  she  observed. 

"  Yes,  Susv,  come  here,"  and  he  pulled  her  towards  him. 

"  Don't — don't— I" — 

"  All  I  want,  Susy,  is  to  hear  more  about  your  friend  Clara. 
Kiss  me,  now,  and  then  tell  me,  has  she  any  beaux?" 

"  You  kiss  me  so  hard  I  don't  like  it.  No  ;  Clara  hasn't  got 
any  fellows.  She  is  too  proud  for  that.  None  up  here  are 
good  enough  for  her." 

"  Indeed.  I  am  glad  to  hear  that," — here  Susan  began  to 
squirm  in  a  very  uneasy  manner,  for  Mr.  Nordheim  was  re- 
sorting to  all  sorts  of  means  to  stir  up  the  young  girl's  passions, 


VIGOR.  41 

and  probably  he  would  have  succeeded  had  not  Susan  said, 
"  If  you  are  so  anxious  about  Clara,  what  do  you  want  to  fool 
with  me  for  1"  It  was  enough.  "  I  was  wrong.  Now  kiss 
me,  to  show  that  you  are  not  angry."  Susan  complied,  and  lie 
led  her  to  the  door.  She  had  escaped  that  time,  but  the  poor 
chirping  bird  was  marked  for  a  shot,  and  only  got  away  be- 
cause a  beautiful  quail  was  to  be  looked  after. 

When  Mr.  Nordheim  was  alone,  he  lit  another  cigar  and 
then  went  down  to  the  bar-room.  Bill  Norris  had  gone.  The 
room  was  crowded.  Mr.  Nordheim  had  an  object — it  was  to 
make  popularity.  Time  after  time  did  he  treat  every  man  in 
the  room  until  all  but  himself  were  drunk — roaring  country 
drunk,  and  then  he  went  to  bed.  How  little  his  elegant  wife 
dreamed  of  the  nature  of  her  husband's  commercial  negotia- 
tions ! 

The  next  day  opened  bright  and  beautiful.  It  was  much 
warmer,  and  Mr.  Nordheim  rose  early.  He  had  ordered  a 
horse  and  buggy  to  be  ready  for  his  use  immediately  after 
breakfast.  It  came  as  he  had  drank  his  last  cup  of  coffee.  He 
settled  his  bill,  paid  for  a  day's  use  of  the  horse  and  buggy, 
observing  that  he  might  not  return.  The  carpet  bag  was 
placed  in  the  buggy,  and  after  a  few  enquiries  as  to  his  route 
to  the  house  of  Mr.  Norris,  he  bade  his  host  "  good  morning." 
and  started  on  the  main  road.  He  had  to  drive  a  distance  of 
two  miles.  He  occasionally  stopped  to  gaze  on  the  woods  and 
the  water.  The  forests  were  covered  with  colors  as  varie- 
gated as  the  rainbow,  and  he  passed  two  long  sheets  of  water 
that  he  could  not  but  stop  to  admire.  Between  the  two  first 
lakes  stood  a  cottage  embowered  in  a  grove  of  large  drooping 
willows,  and^not  far  off  was  a  long  row  of  poplars.  He  en- 
quired what  place  that  was.  "  Poplar  Farm,'1  was  the  reply, 
and  he  drove  on.  He  had  nearly  reached  the  head  of  the  sec- 
ond lake,  and  was  coming  in  sight  of  the  third,  when  he  no- 
ticed a  log-cabin  that  seemed  hardly  capable  of  holding  up  it- 
self. It  was  large,  but  every  thing  about  the  spot  looked 
poverty-struck  and  desolate.  He  was  passing  on  by  it  when 
out  started  a  man  that  he  recognized  as  Bill  Norris. 

"  Hallo.     What,  you  was  a-going  by,  eh  ?     That  won't  do." 
"  Have  you  a  place  to  put  my  horse,  Norris  ?" 
"  Yes  ;  I  got  a  little  snuggery  down  under   the    hill.     Drive 
around  the  road  a  little  way,  and  I  will  come  and  help  you  un- 
hitch." 
Mr.  Nordheim  complied,  and   when  the  horce  was  put  in 


42  VIGOR. 

the  miserable  apology  for  a  stall,  Nordheim  asked  if  the  moth- 
er had  been  spoken  with. 

"  Yes  ;  and  she  is  willin'.  She  thinks  it  the  best  thing  that 
can  be  done." 

"  And  Clara — does  she  know  any  thing  of  what  is  pro- 
posed ?"  said  Nordheim,  anxiously. 

"  I  rather  think  the  old  woman  had  something  to  say  to  her 
about  it,  but  I  don't  know.  Women  folks  can't  keep  a  secret, 
you  understand." 

Nordheim  felt  relieved.  Half  his  work  was  done.  The  two 
now  reached  the  log-cabin.  Norris  entered  first,  but  no  sooner 
had  Nordheim  followed  over  the  door-sill  than  he  actually 
started  back  with  astonishment.  Never  had  his  eyes  been 
placed  upon  such  a  vision  of  female  loveliness.  He  could  not 
speak.  She  was  dressed  in  rags,  but  there  was  a  form,  a  com- 
plexion, a  skin  that  rags  could  not  hide.  She  had  been  trying 
to  do  up  her  splendid  hair,  but  lacking  combs  and  material,  it 
had  fallen  like  a  golden  cloud  over  her  shoulders  and  reached 
nearly  to  her  knees.  Nordheim  jumped  towards  her,  took  her 
hand,  and  observed,  "  This  is  Clara.  I  need  no  more  of  an 
introduction — don't  be  scared  on  my  account,"  and  then,  with 
the  grace  of  a  man  of  the  world,  he  placed  all  at  their  ease  by 
talking  of  their  future.  There  was  a  little  boy  and  a  little 
girl,  brother  and  sister  of  Clara.  To  one  he  gave  a  pearl- 
handled  knife,  and  to  the  other  a  gold  pencil-case.  "  Now 
then,  Mrs.  Norris,  I  am  going  to  dine  with  you,  and  here  is 
some  money  to  buy  any  article  you  need.  I  suppose  Mr.  Nor- 
ris will  go  and  get  it  for  you."  She  took  the  money.  "Miss 
Clara,  as  I  was  riding  up,  I  could  not  help  admiring  the  mountain 
in  front  of  us.  There  must  be  a  beautiful  view  of  the  lake 
from  the  top  of  it.  Suppose  you  accompany  me,  and  point  out 
all  that  is  to  be  seen,"  requested  Mr.  Nordheim,  kindly. 

"  Get  your  bonnet  and  go  with  the  gentleman,"  came  from 
the  mother's  mouth. 

"  I  am  in  no  hurry,"  observed  Nordheim.  "  Take  your  own 
time,  Clara."  This  he  said  so  kindly  that  the  poor  girl  burst 
into  tears.  A  few  moments  after  he  was  following  her  up  the 
Bide  of  the  mountain.  "  Clara,"  called  Mr.  Nordheim.  She 
stopped,  and  he  took  her  hand  in  his  own.  "  Don't  let  us  go 
too  far  and  get  tired.  Here  seems  to  be  a  nice  quiet  place, 
where  we  can  take  a  seat  and  talk  over  certain  matters." 
Clara  seated  herself  by  his  side.  He  still  kept  her  hand. 
"  Clara,  will  you  answer  me  a  few  questions  honestly  and 
truly  1" 


VIGOR.  43 

"  I  will." 

"  Are  you  happy  here  ?   Do  your  parents  treat  yon  kindly  ?" 

«  No — I  am  miserable,  and  they  treat  me  horribly." 

"  Would  you  like  to  leave  here  ?"  he  asked,  kindly. 

"  With  all  my  heart !     But  my  poor  parents  !" 

"  Clara,  suppose  I  say  that  I  will  give  your  parents  the  sum 
of  $500  to-night,  to  make  them  comfortable.  Will  you  then 
place  yourself  under  my  charge  ?" 

"  Will  I  ?     Try  me.     But  what  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"  This  is  all,  Clara,  if  you  will  make  me  your  husband  to- 
night—that is,  you  will  treat  me  in  every  way  as  if  I  were 
your  husband." 

"  But  will  you  marry  me  to-night  ?"  said  the  girl,  who  was 
covered  with  blushes.  "  Speak  plain,"  she  continued.  "  I 
know  what  you  mean.  You  will  not  marry  me,  but  you  wish 
me  to  become  your  mistress  ;  you  have  money,  and  you  would 
buy  me  !  Now  repeat  the  offer,"  said  Clara,  determinedly. 

"  Yes,  Clara,  that  is  it.  I  will  take  you  from  here  to  New 
York  as  speedily  as  possible.  To-morrow  morning  we  will 
start.  Then  I  will  get  you  handsome  clothes — •!  will  procure 
you  a  home — I  will  get  you  teachers,  and  I  will  make  a  lady 
of  you." 

Clara  smiled,  and  said,  "  Listen  to  me,  Mr.  Nordheim. 
There  is  no  need  of  words.  I  am  a  decided  girl.  I  am  as 
pure  as  ice — but  I  can't  lead  such  a  life.  I  want  to  see  my 
lather  comfortable.  Do  what  you  said,  and  the  next  night  I 
will  return  to  my  wretched  room,  remain  in  your  arms  until 
morning,  provided  you  then  hurry  me  off  to  New  York.  If 
you  do  what  you  promise  then,  you  will  have  a  mistress  that 
will  be  true  to  you  till  death.  If  you  deceive  me,  or  do  not 
make  good  your  promises,  woe  be  on  your  head  !  Now  let  us 
return  to  our  humble  home." 

"  Stay  a  moment,  Clara.  If  you  are  anxious  to  go,  why  not 
start  to-day  ?'" 

"  No — I  will  not  move  until  I  see  my  mother  and  father  in 
possession  of  the  price  you  have  agreed  to  pay  for  me." 

"  And  then  " 

"  I  am  yours,  body  and  soul,  and  I  do  not  care  what  you  do 
with  me." 

"  I  have  the  money  ready.  See,  here  it  is,  in  Sussex  Bank 
bills.  Count  it." 

He  handed  her  the  money.     Clara  did  count  it,   and  then 
glowly  drawing  her  hand  across  her  face,  she  asked, 
.  "  And  when  you  give  that  to  niy  parents  " 


44  VIGOR. 

"  Then,  Clara,  I  expect  you  to  regard  yourself  as  mino.  Wo 
will  stay  here  to-night,  or  we  will  go  to  Dover,  just  as  you 
decide.  Now  shall  we  return  home  ?" 

"  Be  it  as  you  wish — I  have  no  choice,"  said  Clara,  mourn- 
fully. 

Nordheim  attempted  to  kiss  her  lips. 

"  No,  no,"  she  exclaimed,  while  pushing  him  aside.  "  Not 
now.  Pay  the  sum  to  my  parents,  and  then  I  ain  yours  alto- 
gether." 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  until  they  reached  the  log  house. 
Clara  took  a  seat. 

"  Well  ?"  said  the  father. 

"  Everything  is  pleasantly  arranged,  and  Clara  and  myself 
have  decided  to  leave  for  New  York  city  either  to-night  or  to- 
morrow morning.  But  I  have  something  for  you." 

He  took  out  of  his  pocket-book  a  roll  of  bills,  and  laid  it 
upon  the  table.  Clara  jumped  up  and  seized  the  money.  She 
selected  from  the  roll  five  fifty  dollar  bills,  and  placed  them  in 
one  pile.  "  Father,  take  the  money ;"  and  then  an  equal 
amount  she  handed  to  her  other  parent,  adding,  "  Mother,  take 
this.  God  bless  you  both  !" 

They  each  took  the  money.  Then  she  kissed  her  mother,  and 
afterwards  her  father,  crying  as  if  .her  heart  were  broken. 
When  she  had  found  voice,  she  said,  "  Now  you  have  money, 
spend  it  wisely.  Father,  don't  drink  any  more  ;  and  whon  you 
think  of  doing  it,  think  of  poor  me,  and  perhaps  at  what  an 
awful  cost  I  earned  the  money."  Then  turning  to  Mr.  Nord- 
heim, she  added,  almost  hysterically,  "  Come  sir,  you  have  not 
yet  decided  whether  you  will  stay  here  to-night  or  go  to  Dover. 
Follow  me,  and  I  will  show  you  my  delightful  bed-room.  Up 
this  ladder." 

She  was  followed  up  by  the  exquisite  New  Yorker  in  aston- 
ishment. As  he  reached  the  fluor  of  the  open  garret,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Why,  Clara,  where  do  you  sleep  ?" 

"  There,  she  exclaimed,  pointing  to  a  pile  of  rags  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  garret ;  and  she  ran  towards  it,  and  loosing  her  hair 
so  as  almost  to  cover  her  entire  figure,  she  flung  herself  upon 
the  rags,  and  said,  "  Well,  what  do  you  think  now  ?  This  must 
be  our  bridal  bed  if  you  stay  here  to-night.  My  parents  have 
no  other." 

He  went  to  her,  calmed  her  excitement,  and  kindly  coaxed 
her  to  descend  the  stairs.  "  We  will  start  for  Dover  in  a  few 
minutes.  Fix  up  Clara  the  best  you  can,"  said  he  kindly  to 
her  mother. 


VIGOR.  45 

Clara  did  not  cry  any  more.  She  spoke  kindly  to  her  mo- 
ther, and  helped  her  to  spread  the  table  with  a  few  eatables. 
An  hour  later  she  took  her  seat  in  the  buggy  beside  Mr.  Nord- 
heim.  That  same  evening  they  reached  Dover,  after  a  few 
hours'  drive.  They  were  just  in  time  to  catch  the  mail  stage 
for  New  York  via  Newark.  The  next  night  at  about  ten 
o'clock  the  two  reached  a  private  house  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  city,  where  Mr.  Nordheim  seemed  to  be  perfectly  at  home. 

Such  was  one  of  the  business  transactions  of  Mr.  Nordheim. 
It  was  the  opening  history  of  a  beautiful  girl,  who  in  after 
years  made  a  sensation  as  the  haughtiest  as  well  as  most  mag- 
nificent courtezan  that  ever  walked  the  streets  of  New  York. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  first  year    over — Dinner    at    Mr.    Grnnville's — The  Family  of  Kir. 
Granville — Col.  Mac  Neil. 

LIFE  in  a  counting-room  during  the  period  of  junior  clerk 
ship  is  without  much  of  interest,  The  routine  is  about  the 
same  from  day  to  day.  A  year  had  now  elapsed  since  Marion 
arrived  in  New  York,  and  he  had  become  quite  expert  in  his 
clerical  duties.  He  was  a  favorite  with  Mr.  Granville,  he  con- 
tinued to  reside  at  the  residence  of  Mr.  Nordheim,  in  Bond 
street,  and  oftentimes  was  of  great  service  to  that  partner. 
Young  Monck  was  a  hard  student,  and  rarely  retired  to  bed 
before  twelve  o'clock  at  night.  He  could  read  French  well, 
and  availed  himself  of  every  opportunity  of  speaking  it.  This 
was  the  more  easy,  as  the  business  of  Granville  and  Nordhcim 
was  principally  a  foreign  commission  business.  They  received 
consignments  of  vessels  and  cargoes  from  many  ports  in  the 
Mediterranean,  and  wine  and  assorted  cargoes  from  Cette  and 
Marseilles  were  regular.  By  such  means  Marion  became  ac- 
quainted with  French  captains  and  French  passengers  that 
brought  letters  of  introduction  to  the  firm,  and  he  used  to  show 
them  the  hospitalities  of  the  city.  His  progress  in  pronounc- 
ing French  was  extremely  rapid  from  these  facilities,  so  that 
at  the  expiration  of  his  first  year  in  New  York  he  was  a  fair 
French  scholar.  The  foundation  was  laid,  and  by  practice  he 
improved  until  he  could  write,  read  or  speak  French  equal  to 
a  Frenchman.  Mrs.  Nordheim  was  his  fellow  student  in  French, 
and  her  progress  was  equally  rapid  with  Marion  ;  for  Mr.  Nori  • 


46  VIGOR. 

heim  spoke  French  well,  and  when  she  expressed  a  wish  to 
that  effect,  he  would  converse  with  her  in  that  language.  Fre- 
quently Marion  would  take  part  in  their  conversation. 

It  was  a  very  curious  fact,  that  for  some  months  Mr.  Nord- 
heim  had  not  found  occasion  to  be  absent  from  the  city,  and 
he  was  much  more  kind  and  sociable  at  his  home  than  before 
M:irion  came  there.  He  was  absent  almost  every  night,  but  no 
curiosity  was  ever  expressed  by  his  wife  or  Marion  as  to  the 
cause  of  such  absence. 

Marion  had  had  very  few  opportunities  of  knowing  much  of 
Mr.  Granville  or  his  family.  The  intercourse  between  them 
was  only  at  the  counting-house  ;  and  although  Mr.  Granville 
appeared  to  be  pleased  with  the  attention  which  Marion  showed 
to  his  business,  yet  he  rarely  noticed  him  save  to  give  orders 
or  instructions.  Marion  had  observed  to  Mr.  Nordheim  that 
Mr.  Granville  did  not  seem  to  be  aware  that  he  was  in.  exist- 
ence, save  in  the  office. 

"  Never  mind,  Marion,"  was  the  reply.  "  An  old  merchant 
like  Mr.  Granville  does  not  waste  much  time  on  the  youngest 
clerk  in  his  employ.  Wait." 

He  took  his  advice.  Precisely  one  year  from  the  day  he 
entered  the  office,  Mr.  Granville  in  the  morning  called  him 
into  his  private  office,  and  somewhat,  abruptly  remarked,  . 

"  It  is  a  year  that  you  have  been  with  me." 

Marion  was  astonished.  He  could  not  conceive  that  the 
haughty  merchant  by  any  means  should  stop -to  remember  such 
a  fact.  He  did  not  know  the  man — and  he  replied  "  Yes  sir." 

"  Then  to-morrow  your  salary  will  begin  at  three  hundred 
dollars." 

Marion  bowed  and  added,  "  I  have  not  drawn  my  salary  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  There  is  nearly  one  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  due  me  now." 

"  How  is  that  1" 

"  I  have  been  living  with  Mr.  Nordheim,  and  he  has  not 
said  anything  to  me  about  what  he  should  charge,  and  I  did 
not  think  it  would  be  right  to  draw  under  such  circumstances." 

"  Go  and  call  in  Mr.  Wilson." 

It  was  done. 

"  Wilson,  fill  up  a  check  and  bring  it  to  me  to  sign  for  the 
balance  due  on  this  young  man's  salary  up  to  date.  In  the 
coming  year  itwill  be  three  hundred  dollars.  Now,  Mr.  Monck, 
I  have  nothing  to  do  with  my  partner  taking  you  to  his  house. 
I  understand  that  you  speak  and  write  low  Dutch,  and  he  has 
made  you  useful  to  him  to  a  greater  amount  than  any  board  he 


VIGOR.  47 

•would  charge;  Make  your  mind  easy  on  that  score.  He  will 
make  no  charge  against  you — or  if  he  does,  give  the  account  to 
me,  and  I  will  pay  it  out  of  my  own  pocket." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Wilson  had  brought  the  check.  It  was  for 
one  hundred  and  sixty-five  dollars,  and  Mr.  Granville  signed 
it.  As  he  handed  it  to  Marion,  he  laughingly  saul,  "  You  will 
be  quite  rich.  What  will  you  do  with  so  much  money,  eh?" 

"  Send  it  to  my  parents,  sir,"  replied  Marion. 

"  Very  right  and  proper ;  and  now,  sir,  will  you  do  me  the 
favor  to  come  and  dine  with  me  to-day  at  five  o'clock  ?  I  wish 
to  make  you  acquainted  with  my  family  ;  nnd  you  will  meet  at 
my  table  one  or  more  of  my  friends  worth  knowing.  You  know 
where  my  residence  is,  I  suppose  ;  and  be  before  the  hour  ra- 
ther than  later,  whenever  you  are  invited  out  to  dine." 

"  1  shall  be  pleased  to  dine  with  you  sir,  and  will  not  be 
later  than  the  hour." 

Before  we  present  Marion  at  this  dinner  with  his  senior  em- 
ployer, it  will  be  interesting  to  the  reader  to  learn  something 
of  Mr.  Granville.  William  Pitt  Granville  was  the  grandson 
of  a  man  who  was  once  speaker  of  the  English  House  of  Com- 
mons. He  had  been  educated  commercially  in  one  of  those 
extensive  commercial  firms  in  England,  whose  business  con- 
nection extended  over  the  world.  The  firm  had  sent  Mr.  Gran- 
ville to  New  York  to  attend  to  some  special  business,  and  his 
keen  eye  saw  an  opening  in  New  York;  and  he  wrote  home  to 
that  effect.  The  London  firm  of  Prcscott,  Grote  &  Co.  had  a 
correspondent  named  Nordheim,  who  had  a  son  that  he  was 
anxious  to  place  in  business  in  some  American  port.  The 
London  firm  saw  that  they  could  benefit  these  parties,  besides 
their  own  firm,  and  the  result  was  that  old  Nordheim  agreed 
to  put  $50,000  in  cash  in  the  firm  for  his  son,  and  young  Nord- 
heim in  less  than  six  months  became  the  partner  of  Mr.  Gran- 
ville. Mr.  Granville  was  the  business  man.  His  energy 
was  unceasing.  Connexions  and  agencies  were  made  in  every 
part  of  Europe  ;  and  what  with  Mr.  Nordheim's  cash  capital, 
and  the  facilities  extended  by  the  Loo  don  firm  and  the.  elder 
Nordheim,  business  rolled  in  upon  the  New  York'  firm  from 
every  quarter,  and  their  profits  in  a  short  time  were  more  than 
double  their  original  capital. 

Mr.  Nordheim,  as  we  have  before  observed,  was  not  much 
of  a  business  man,  and  Mr.  Granville  persuaded  him  to  go  to 
Charleston,  S.  C.,  to  procure  shipments  of  rice  and  cotton  to 
New  York  and  to  his  father's  house  in  Amsterdam.  As  he 
had  money  to  advance  on  all  such  shipments,  he  was  very  sue- 


48  VIGOR. 

cessful  in  procuring  them,  and  Ins  sojourn  in  Charleston  was 
of  great  benefit  to  all  parties.  It  was  while  residing  at  Charles- 
ton that  he  became  fascinated  with  Elizabeth  Ferguson,  and 
married  her,  as  has  been  detailed  in  a  former  chapter. 

To  return  to  Mr.  Granville.  He  was  English  in  his  appear- 
ance, habits,  mode  of  thinking,  and  in  every  other  way.  He 
believed  that  this  was  a  great  country  to  make  money  in,  but 
that  England  was  the  only  country  worth  belonging  to  ;  and  he 
never  would  take  out  papers  to  become  an  American  citizen 
"British  I  was  born,  and  a  Briton  I  will  die,"  was  a  favorite 
expression.  He  was  six  feet  in  height,  and  well-proportioned. 
His  forehead  was  very  high,  and  his  head  almost  bald,  lie 
was  fifty  years  of  age  when  Marion  joined  him.  His  nose  was 
curved  like  the  beak  of  an  eagle,  and  he  felt  much  flattered 
when  told  that  this  feature  very  much  resembled  that  of  the 
great  Duke  of  Wellington.  It  was  true,  too.  He  had  mar- 
ried in  England,  and  brought  over  with  him,  when  he  decided 
to  remove  to  America,  a  wife  and  two  children,  the  one  a  girl 
named  Isabella,  and  the  other  a  boy  named  Walter.  His  resi- 
dence was  in  a  house  which  is  still  standing  in  State  street, 
fronting  the  Battery.  At  that  time  it  was  the  residence  of 
some  of  the  most  prominent  merchants  that  New  York  has  pro- 
duced. It  was  a  venerable  double  house,  painted  yellow,  with 
a  door  in  the  centre,  and  an  old-fashioned  stoop  supported  by 
two  wooden  pillars,  with  red  stone  steps  on  each  side,  leading 
up  to  the  doorway.  It  had  a  large,  spacious  hall,  four  times 
the  size  of  a  hall  in  a  modern  house.  On  the  right  was  a  large 
reception  room,  or  parlor,  and  on  the  left  was  another  of  equal 
dimensions.  In  the  rear  of  the  hall  was  a  dining-room,  with 
large  bay  windows,  extending  nearly  the  width  of  the  house, 
and  overlooking  a  large  yard,  which  was  filled  with  plants  and 
shrubbery  of  every  description.  The  view  from  the  front  par- 
lors, or  from  any  room  in  the  front  .part  of  the  house,  was  mag- 
nificent beyond  comparison.  The  windows  overlooked  the 
Battery  and  the  bay,  and  the  view  in  the  summer  season  was 
unsurpassed  in  the  world.  There  was  nothing  to  equal  it  in 
New  York.  Mr.  Granville  had  good  taste. 

Besides  his  wife  and  children,  Mr.  Granville  had  a  younger 
brother  residing  in  the  old  English  mansion.  This  brother 
Thomas  was  as  eccentric  a  being  as  ever  drew  breath  ;  and  we 
shall  have  much  more  to  say  of  him  as  our  story  progresses. 

Mrs.  Granville  and  Thomas  were  the  only  persons  in  the  din- 
ing-room when  Marion  arrived.  It  was  to  them  that  Mr.  Gran- 
ville introduced  Mr.  Monck. 


VIGOR.  49 

Mrs.  Granville  appeared  to  bo  about  forty  years  of  age.  She 
was  very  small  in  size,  and  extremely  pale.  She  looked  as 
though  a  good  strong  gust  of  wind  from  the  Battery  would 
blow  her  away.  She  put  out  her  hand  to  Marion,  and  kindly 
greeted  him,  saying, 

"  I  have  heard  of  you  often  from  my  husband,  and  expected 
you  would  have  visited  us  before  this  ;  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
now,  and  I  trust  you  will  come  and  see  us  as  often  as  you  have 
leisure." 

Poor  Mrs.  Granville,  her  days  were  numbered  !  Marion 
soon  learned  that  her  seclusion  arose  from  the  fact  that  she 
was  dying  of  consumption. 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  continue  the  acquaintance,  be- 
lieve me,  Mrs.  Granville  ;  for  I  know  very  few  families  in  the 
city." 

"  Here  comes  Isa — my  daughter,  this  is  Marion  Monck." 

And  a  beautiful  girl  sprang  forward  and  gave  her  hand  to 
Marion. 

"  0,  I  have  seen  Marion  a  hundred  times  when  I  have  skip- 
ped in  and  out  of  the  office,  but  I  am  so  glad  Pa  has  brought 
him  here.  I  am  sure  we  shull  be  excellent  friends." 

A  moment  after  Walter,  the  son  came  in.  He  was  a  hand- 
some lad,  of  about  Marion's  ago,  but  extremely  reserved.  He 
had  already  become  acquainted  with  Marion,  having  seen  him 
many  times  at  the  office.  A  gentleman  came  in  just  before  the 
family  rose  to  go  to  the  dining-room.  Mr.  Granville  introduced 
him  to  Marion  as  "  Col.  Mac  Neil,  a  very  old  and  valued  friend." 

The  Colonel  in  a  very  gentlemanly  manner  expressed  great 
gratification  at  meeting  Marion.  Soon  after  the  party  that  had 
assembled  in  the  parlor  adjourned  to  the  large  dining-room. 
Covers  were  placed  for  seven,  and  when  all  had  taken  their 
seats  a  dinner  was  served  in  a  very  simple  manner,  and  Ma- 
rion felt  completely  at  his  ease.  His  seat  was  directly  oppo- 
site to  Isabella  Granville,  and  before  he  had  received  a  dozen 
of  her  laughing  glance's,  poor  Marion  began  to  feel  that  he  was 
getting  in  love. 

"  Bell,"  as  her  Pa  called  her,  was  a  sweet  little  creature, 
very  girlish  in  form  and  figure.  Her  eyes  were  black,  and  she 
had  a  profusion  of  soft  black  hair,  which  was  partly  taken  up 
on  the  back  of  her  head,  and  the  front  portion  was  arranged  in 
curls.  Her  moulh  was  small  and  pretty.  She  was  ready  to 
fall  in  love  with  anybody  that  there  was  a  spark  of  romance 
about.  Although  only  fourteen,  she  had  had  two  lovers  since 
she  was  twelve.  One  was  a  West  Point  cadet,  and  the  other 


50  VIGOR. 

an  unfledged  midshipman  ;  but  her  father,  kind  and  gentle  as 
he  appeared,  was  a  stern,  despotic  man  in  his  own  house,  and 
most  fully  imbued  with  the  English  ideas  of  'marriage.  Ho 
considered  children  as  merely  a  means  of  extending  "  connec- 
tions," and  deemed  it  his  duty  to  select  a  suitable  husband  for 
his  daughter,  and  a  proper  match  for  his  son,  \vhere  settle- 
ments could  be  made  on  both  sides.  He  detested  cadets  and 
midshipmen,  lawyers,  doctors  and  clergymen.  He  had  his 
own  views  for  "  Bell."  Mr.  Granville  was  a  merchant,  in  the 
true  meaning  of  the  word,  and  he  looked  upon  every  man  out- 
side of  the  commercial  profession  as  not  belonging  to  his  world, 
and  as  a  nobody.  He  believed  in  the  English  nobility,  noble 
blood,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  He  also  thought  that  there 
might  be  a  nobility  in  the  United  States  ;  but  if  there  was  any, 
that  no  class  could  justly  lay  claim  to  it  except  the  commer- 
cial class.  A  great  merchant  was  an  object  of  profound  re- 
spect :  the  President  of  the  United  States  he  regarded  as  the 
principal  Custom  House  officer  in  the  nation,  and  he  had  a 
contempt  for  all  Government  officers,  high  or  low.  Ho  deem- 
ed them  a  pack  of  useless  suckers.  There  was  one  class  of 
the  world  that  he  respected  next  to  merchants — they  were  ac- 
tresses and  actors.  A  celebrated  English  actress  was  a  Mrs. 
Grranville,  a  century  ago.  He  was  descended  from  her.  This 
was  the  clue  to  the  secret,  that  fhere  was  no  actor  or  actress, 
from  Kean  the  elder  to  Vandenhoff,  and  Ellen  Tree  to  Mrs. 
Wilson  and  Miss  Sheriff,  that  he  did  not  invite  to  his  house. 
James  and  Henry  Wallack  were  his  intimate  friends.  Hackett 
found  a  banker  in  him  when  he  needed  one.  In  a  word,  no 
actor  or  actress  came  to  this  country  from  England  without  a 
letter  of  introduction  to  Mr.  Granville.  That  was  his  weak- 
ness, if  he  had  any. 

When  the  ladies  retired  from  the  dinner  table  Walter  Gran- 
ville went  with  them,  and  the  conversation  continued  until  a 
late  hour.  Marion  was  delighted.  Mr.  Granville  treated  him 
as  if  he  had  been  the  richest  merchant  in  the  city,  conversed 
with  him,  drew  him  out,  made  him  at  his  ease,  and  yet  not  one 
word  was  said  about  the  store,  his  own  position,  or  business. 
The  shop  was  sunk  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Granville.  It  was 
nearly  ten  o'clock  when  Marion  took  his  leave,  and  when  he 
reached  Bond  street  Mrs.  Nordheim  made  him  tell  her  all  the 
events  of  the  dinner,  and  particularly  all  that  Colonel  Mac  Neil 
had  said.  But  Colonel  Mac  Neil  is  is  too  important  a  person 
to  bring  in  at  the  close  of  a  chapter. 


VIGOR.  51 


CHAPTER    X. 

t 

Colonel  William  Mac  Neil— Duel  of  Mr.  Graham  and  Colonel  Barton. 

"  BESSY,  pray  tell  me  something  about  Colonel  Mac  Neil, 
whom  I  met  at  the  dinner  at  Mr.  Granville's  yesterday,"  ex- 
claimed Marion,  at  their  early  breakfast  next  morning  to  Mrs. 
Nordheim.  "  I  am  sure  you  know  something  of  his  previous 
history." 

"  Not  so  much,  perhaps,  as  you  may  imagine.  What  I  do 
know,  I  obtained  from  Mr.  Nordheim.  The  fact  is,  the  Colo- 
nel is  a  very  gallant  man,  and  regards  himself  as  quite  a  lady- 
killer.  He  made  love  to  me  before  I  had  been  in  New  York 
three  weeks.  I  rather  astonished  him  by  repeating  some  of 
his  love  speeches  before  him  at  dinner,  when  Mr.  Nordheim 
was  present.  The  gallant  Colonel  did  not  make  any  more 
sweet  speeches  to  me,  I  can  assure  you.  Mr.  Nordheim  was 
excessively  pleased  with  my  tact,  as  he  called  it,  and  in  grati- 
tude, I  suppose,  for  its  display,  told  me  somewhat  of  my  gal- 
lant gentleman's  antecedents.  The  Colonel  is  Scotch,  and  of 
a  very  good  family.  He  must  have  been  born  somewhere 
about  the  year  1800,  and  I  have  heard  him  say  he  was  only 
fourteen  years  old  when  his  father,  who  commanded  a  regi- 
ment of  Highlanders  at  Waterloo,  was  slain.  The  young  Mac 
afterwards  emigrated  to  Canada  with  his  mother,  who  married 
a  second  husband,  and  ten  years  ago  came  to  this  city.  He 
was  about  twenty-one  years  of  age,  and  had  about  ten  thou- 
sand pounds  Sterling  in  money.  By  Mr.  Granville's  advice 
he  formed  a  partnership  here  and  went  into  the  wine  business 
with  a  Mr.  Gillespie,  who  had  no  capital  but  great  experience. 
Colonel  Mac  Neil  is  a  dashing,  fashionable  man  about  town. 
He  goes  into  the  best  society,  boards  at  the  City  Hotel,  is  a 
manager  at  the  City  Assembly  balls,  and,  though  he  has  made 
some  seductions,  and  one  of  his  victims  he  keeps  as  a  mistress 
in  very  good  style,  and  has  had  two  children  by  her,  yet  he  is 
well  received  wherever  he  goes,  and  he  is  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried to  the  wealthy  and  accomplished  Miss  Grasper." 

"if  he  spends  money  in  so  princely  a  manner,  I  should  think 
he  would  need  to  marry  an  heiress  unless  his  business  is  a 
source  of  great  profit,"  remarked  Marion. 


52  VIGOR. 

"  Mr.  Nordheim  says  unless  the  Colonel  marries  money, 
that  his  high  flown  game  will  soon  be  up,  that  he  gambles  tre- 
mendously at  Washington  Hall  every  night.  He  is  a  good 
hand  at  cards,  I  dare  say,  and  it  may  be  that  his  luck  and  skill 
as  a  gambler  is  the  secret  of  his  having  so  much  money  to 
carry  on  the  war  with.  You  know  what  a  noise  he  made  some 
years  ago  as  the  second  in  a  duel." 

"  No  ;  I  do  not.     Never  heard  of  it." 

"  It  was  a  sad  affair.  By  the  way,  Marion,  I  do  not  wish  to 
prejudice  you  against  Colonel  Mac  Neil.  He  is  a  great  friend 
of  both  Mr.  Granville  and  of  my  husband.  He  is  a  perfect 
man  of  the  world,  and  when  you  are  a  few  years  older,  it  will 
be  in  his  power  to  be  of  great  service  to  you.  I  recommend 
you  to  cultivate  an  intimacy  with  him,  and  receive  any  advan- 
ces of  a  friendly  nature  on  his  part  with  cordiality." 

"  Thank  you.  I  will  not  forget  your  advice.  Bat  about  the 
duel  ?"  asked  Marion. 

"  I  had  nearly  forgot  it.  A  Mr.  Graham,  connected  with 
the  Daily  Courier,  bad  some  difficulty  with  Mr.  Barton,  who 
is  more  famous  as  the  husband  of  Cora  Livingston,  a  daughter 
of  the  great  Edward  Livingston,  than  any  other  act  of  his  life. 
It  led  to  a  demand  for  satisfaction  on  the  part  of  Barton. 
Graham  accepted  the  challenge.  Barton,  who  was  intimate 
with  Col.  Mac  Neil,  requested  him  to  act  as  his  second.  The 
principals  met,  and  Mac  Neil's  advice  to  Barton  saved  his  life 
and  killed  Graham." 

"  What  was  the  advice  ?  " 

"Don't  aim,  Barton,  but  raise  your  pistol  to  a  dead  level 
with  your  stomach,  and  fire  at  the  word." 

"  Mac  Neil  must  be  a  very  cool  sort  of  person  on  such  occa- 
sions ?  " 

"  It  is  much  easier  for  the  seconds  to  be  cool  than  it  is  for 
the  principals,  I  should  suppose.  ,This  affair,  and  the  noise 
about  it,  made  Mac  Neil  quite  a  hero  among  the  girls — and  all 
the  young  bloods  about  town,  if  they  get  into  a  quarrel  when 
drunk,  go  to  consult  Mac  Neil  about  their  honor  when  they  are 
sober.  K£ep  on  the  right  side  of  Colonel  Mac  Neil,  Marion.  I 
feel  that  he  will  be  of  use  to  you  some  day.  I  did  think  that 
Mr.  Granville  had  an  idea  in  his  head  to  marry  pretty  Isa  to 
Mac  Neil.  I  don't  think  so  now.  Why,  Marion,  how  you 
wince." 

"I  —  nonsense!  What  difference  would  it  make  to  me? 
But  why  would  not  Mr.  Granville  marry  Bell  to  Mac  ?  " 

"  Because  Mac  is  getting  on  too  fast  for  Mr.  Granville.    He 


VIGOR.  5(5 

'wants  Bell  to  marry  a  man  who  has  got  money  and  a  steady 
business.  Don't  you  begin  life  by  falling  in  love  with  that  lit- 
tle face.  She  is  the  most  arrant  little  coquette  in  existence, 
and  don't  know  her  own  mind  ten  minutes.  Or  if  you  do 
choose  to  get  up  a  flirtation  with  her,  don't  make  it  serious, 
for  she  will  marry^  at  ten  minutes'  notice,  any  man  '  Pa ' 
chooses,  and  he  will  not  choose  you.  Another  prudent  reason 
for  not  falling  in  love  with  Isabella  is  this — Mr.  Granville 
•would  make  short  work  with  your  clerkship  if  it  was  to  get  to 
his  ears.  Prcnez  garde." 

Marion  laughed,  and  thanked  Mrs.  Nordheim  for  the  inform- 
tion  she  had  given  him,  and  then  hurried  down  to  the  office. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

Cows  and  Mocking  Bird*  in  Soulh  Carolina  —  The  French  Cojfee  House 
in  Warren  st.t  and  its 


NEARLY  a  year  Ijad  gone  by  since  the  close  of  the  last 
chapter,  and  two'years  since  the  arrival  of  Marion  in  New 
York.  Not  a  week  had  passed  without  his  writing  a  letter  to 
his  parents,  or  receiving  one  from  them,  and  every  now  and 
then,  he  would  get  some  present  from  home,  to  remind  him  that 
he  was  not  forgotten.  He  had  remitted  one  hundred  and  sixty 
dollars  to  his  father.  The  latter  acknowledged  its  receipt, 
and  while  he  thanked  his  son  for  sending  it,  declined  to  use  it 
for  his  own  purpose. 

"We  have  no  need  of  it,  my  son,  but  I  have  placed  it  where 
it  will  grow  —  in  other  words  —  cows  are  worth  here  at  present 
only  eight  dollars.  I  have  bought  and  branded  M  M,  twenty 
cows,  and  have  registered  them  in  the  parish  as  yours.  Four 
or  five  years  hence  my  son  will  be  quite  a  cattle  proprietor. 
I  have  taken  to  Charleston  four  cages,  each  containing  a 
valuable  mocking  bird  ;  they  will  be  sent  to  you  by  the  first 
ship." 

The  ship  arrived,  and  Marion  gave  one  of  the  birds  to 
Wilson,  the  book-keeper,  one  to  Mrs.  Nordheim,  one  to 
Isabella  Granville,  and  the  fourth  —  Mr.  Nordheim  offered  to 
buy  it.  Marion  refused  to  sell  it,  but  begged  Mr.  Nordheim 
to  accept  it,  adding  — 

"  I  have  already  given  one  to  Mrs.  Nordheim." 

"  I  aware  of  that,  Marion,  but  I  wish  you   to   procure  the 


54  VIGOR. 

handsomest  cage  you  can  find.  Put  my  bird  in  it.  I  Trill 
give  you  the  address  to  which  I  wish  it  taken,  and  you  shall 
accompany  it  with  a  note  from  me.  I  have  to  ask  an  addition- 
al favor.  You  need  not  mention  the  circumstance  of  the  bird, 
or  any  part  of  this  conversation,  or  to  whom  I  have  given  the 
bird." 

"  Certainly  not,  if  you  do  not  wish  it." 

As  the  office  was  closing  that  night,  Marion  asked  Mr. 
Wilson  if  he  would  go  and  take  a  cup  of  coffee  with  him  The 
offer  was  accepted,  and  they  strolled  off  to  No.  9  Warren 
street.  At  that  time  there  was  a  French  coffee-house  there, 
kept  by  a  sleepy-looking  Frenchman  named  Blinn.  When  Mr. 
Wilson  and  Marion  had  taken  their  seats  at  one  of  the  small 
tables,  Marion  ordered  coffee  and  omelettes  for  two  from 
Blinn  himself,  who  attended  to  all  orders.  The  order  was 
given  in  French.  Mr.  Wilson  remarked  it. 

"  Yes,  I  must  confess  that  such  is  my  anxiety  to  perfect  my- 
self in  French,  that  T  come  here  every  chance  I  get  to  prac- 
tice. There  are  some  very  remarkable  men,  Mr.  Wilson,  that 
visit  this  place  daily.  Fitz  Green  Halleck,  the  poet,  who  has 
rooms  at  45  down  the  street ;  Charles  Fenno  Hoffman,  and 
several  others.  T  have  become  well  acquainted  with  Mr.  Hal- 
leck, and  have  been  to  his  rooms  at  Mr.  Martine's,  where  he 
has  roomed  for  fifteen  years.  I  like  him  very  much.  With 
Mr.  Hoffman  I  am  not  so  well  acquainted.  He  must  be  pre- 
paring himself  for  death  or  the  mad-house." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?" 

"Because  I  have  seen  him  drink  at  one  sitting,  and  that 
not  once,  but  a  hundred  times,  four  or  five  cups  of  this  French 
coffee,  as  strong  as  lye  ;  but  that  is  not  all.  He  places  a  large 
lump  of  sugar  in  a  teaspoon,  puts  it  across  the  top  of  his  cup 
over  the  coffee,  then  pours  over  it  a  wine  glass  of  Kirchwas- 
ser,  and  burns  it,  the  sugar  melting  and  running  into  the  cof- 
fee. It  is  a  devil's  dose,  is  it  not?" 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  so,  if  old  Lucifer  ever  stimulates.  I 
should  think  a  few  such  cups  of  coffee,  with  the  burnt  sugar 
and  Kirchwasser,  would  waken  the  old  chap  up." 

"  While  we  are  waiting  for  our  omelette  I  propose  to  read 
you  a  letter  from  my  father,"  and  Marion  read  the  letter  about 
cows  and  mocking  birds. 

"  Cows  are  cheap  in  South  Carolina,  are  they  not?" 

"  Extremely  so.  But  it  costs  nothing  to  keep  them.  If  my 
father  does  as  he  says,  (and  I  never  knew  him  do  otherwise,)  I 
may  own  a  hundred  cows  before  five  years  are  over." 


VIGOR.  55 

"It  will  cost  some  money  and  fodder  to  keep  such  a  stock 
in  the  winter,"  observed  Mr.  Wilson. 

"Not  a  cent.  Those  cows  will  go  off  in  the  woods,  and 
perhaps  not  be  seen  until  next  spring.  Then  father  will  hunt 
them  up,  for  they  will  run  with  his  stock.  They  will  bo  found 
with  calves  ;  all  the  bull  calves  will  be  selected,  fattened,  and 
sent  to  Charleston,  where  they  will  bring  seven  dollars  each. 
The  heifer  calves  will  be  branded  M.  M.,  and  turned  adrift 
again  with  their  mothers  and  the  bulls." 

"  How  do  you  manage  to  keep  them  out  of  your  neighbor's 
land  ?  Do  they  break  down  fences  V 

"  Fences  !  Fences  are  somewhat  rare  in  the  great  swamps 
and  forests  in  South  Carolina.  Our  neighbors  do  as  we  do 
with  'heir  cattle,  and  they  feed  themselves  from  one  end  of 
the  year  to  the  other.  We  only  keep  up  a  few  cows  for  milk- 
ing purposes.  Why,  we  raise  hogs  and  colts  in  the  same 
manner.  What  do  you  think  of  Mr.  Nordheim's  asking  me  for 
a  mocking  bird  extra,  eh  ?" 

"  I  think  he  intended  to  give  it  to  his  mistress." 

"  His  mistress  !"  and  Marion  jumped  up  ;  "  mistress  !  what, 
does  he  keep  a  mistress  ?" 

"  A  mistress.  By  the  Lord  Harry  I  don't  think  he  keeps  a 
mistress,  I  think  it  more  likely  that  he  keeps  three  or  four. 
You  seem  perfectly  astonished." 

"  I  am,  and  can  hardly  credit  it.  xHis  wife  knows  nothing 
of  it." 

"  I  dare  say  not.  At  least  I  should  presume  it  would  not 
be  a  very  frequent  or  agreeable  subject  of  conversation  in  the 
family  circle  between  man  and  wife.  Don't  you-  remember 
about  four  months  ago  asking  me  about  a  beautiful  girl  with 
light  hair  that  called  to  get  some  money  ?" 

"  Very  well.     She  was  a  beauty,  I  do  remember." 

"  That  was  one  of  the  mistresses  of  our  worthy  Mr.  Nord- 
heim,  and  she  occupies  a  handsome  two-story  house  in  Broome 
street,  not  far  from  Hudson.  Nordheim  has  had  her  about  a 
year.  He  picked  her  up  somewhere  in  the  country,  and  pays 
house  rent,  furniture  bills,  &c.  for  her." 

"  It  is  a  shame  and  a  sin,"  said  Marion. 

"  Not  at  all.  Nordheim  is  rich,  and  the  firm  is  coining 
money.  He  can  afford  it,  and  if  a  man  can't  do  what  he  pleases 
with  his  own  money,  what  is  the  world  coming  to  in  a  financial 
point  of  view  ?  I  dare  say  you  will  see  the  lady  with  your 
own  eyes,  for  I  judge  that  the  junior  partner  intends  that  you 
shall  carry  the  bird  up  to  Miss  Norris,  for  that  is  her  name. 


56  VIGOR. 

Don't  those  birds  cost  your  father  some  money  ?  I  would  not 
take  twenty  dollars  for  the  bird  you  gave  me.  I  have  him  hung 
up  in  Clark  &  Brown's  bar-room,  and  the  chap  goes  it  with  a 
perfect  looseness." 

"  No,  they  are  as  thick  at  Monck's  Corners  as  robins  are 
here  in  the  Spring.  They  build  nests  all  about  our  house,  and 
as  soon  as  they  are  hatched,  we  take  the  nest  and  put  it  into  a 
cage.  The  old  birds  follow,  and  then  they  feed  the  young 
birds  in  the  cage  until  they  are  able  to  fly.  Then  we  have  to 
be  careful — for  the  old  birds,  when  they  find  their  young  old 
enough  to  fly,  and  unable  to  get  out,  go  into  the  woods  and 
select  some  poisonous  berries,  which  they  administer,  and  kill 
the  little  birds,  if  not  prevented." 

"  That  is  queer,  and  bad  in  a  financial  point  of  view.  It  ia 
getting  late,  and  I  must  go,"  said  Wilson. 

Marion  was  extremely  embarrassed  when  he  reached  Bond 
street.  He  had  made  a  discovery  in  reference  to  Mr.  Nord- 
heim  that  he  would  prefer  not  to  have  made.  He  felt  guilty 
himself,  and  when  Mrs.  Nordheim  asked  him  what  the  matter 
was,  or  if  anything  unpleasant  had  happened,  he  tried  to  laugh 
it  off,  and  only  made  matters  worse.  Finally,  he  concluded 
that  come  what  would,  he  would  keep  the  secret,  and  Mrs. 
Nordheim  remarked,  "  Very  well,  Marion,  you  have  made  a 
discovery  of  some  kind  that  affects  me,  and  you  will  not  tell 
me  what  it  is.  That  is  not  brotherly.  I  am  the  best  friend 
you  have  in  the  world,  and  you  ought  to  trust  me  as  such." 

When  each  retired  for  the  night,  there  was  a  certain  degree 
of  coldness.  Marion  felt  that  he  must  regain  her  confidence 
at  any  cost. 


CHAPTER  XIL 

The.  Hmi  of  the  Ktpt  Mistress — The  Opinion  of  a  Wife  of  her  Husband' s  Follies. 

TRUE  to  his  word,  the  next  morning  Mr.  Nordheim,  who  was 
absent  from  breakfast  at  his  own  house,  met  Marion  at  the  office, 
and  handed  him  a  note.  It  was  addressed  to  "  Miss  C.  Norris, 
No  591  Broome  street." 

"  Did  you  get  the  cage'  as  I  wished  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  did,  sir,"  replied  Marion. 

"  Take  the  porter  and  go  with  it  and  the  bird  to  the  number 
•where  this  note  is  addressed.  Send  him  off  when  you  reach 


VIGOR.  57 

there,  and  deliver  the  note  yourself  to  the  lady  with  the  bird 
and  cage,"  said  Mr.  Nordheim. 

Not  many  hours  elapsed  before  Marion  was  at  the  resi- 
dence designated.  He  inquired  for  the  lady,  and  a  negro 
girl  received  the  bird  cage,  and  asked  Marion  into  the 
parlor.  He  handed  the  note  to  the  girl,  and  bade  her  take 
it  up  to  her  mistress  with  the  cage  and  bird.  While  she  was 
doing  this  errand,  he  had  time  to  look  around  the  parlor.  It  was 
luxuriously  furnished,  a  double  parlor,  with  mahogany  doors 
between,  which  were  furnished  precisely  alike.  The  walls  were 
covered  with  paintings,  that  at  a  glance  Marion  knew  to  be  by 
the  old  masters.  The  carpets  were  so  thick  that  you  hardly 
heard  your  own  footstep.  In  both  the  front  and  back  parlors 
were  centre  tables  of  black  Egyptian  marble,  and  they  were 
covered  with  books,  bound  in  the  most  costly  stylo  of  binding. 
Sofas,  lounges  and  ottomans  were  in  every  part  of  the  parlor, 
and  covered  with  the  most  costly  blue  velvet.  Marion  had  no 
time  for  further  examination,  for  the  girl  returned  and  said, 
"  Missus  wants  you  to  come  up  stairs."  Marion  followed  her, 
and  was  shown  into  a  sleeping  room  extending  the  whole 
width  of  the  house  on  the  front  part  of  the  second  story.  His 
eye  rested  upon  the  same  beautiful  face  that  he  had  seen  once 
before,  and  he  recognized  her  at  once.  There  was  a  splendid 
bedstead  in  the  room,  but  the  lady  was  dressed  in  a  rich  silk 
dressing-gown,  and  reclined  upon  a  lounge  near  one  of  the 
windows.  She  raised  her  head  as  Marion  entered.  In  her  hand 
she  held  the  note,  and  by  her  side  upon  the  floor  was  the  cage 
and  bird. 

"  Oh  it  is  you,  Mr.  Marion,  you  do  not  know  how  very  glad 
I  am  to  see  you.  Mr.  Nordheim  has  often  spoke  of  you,  and 
I  have  to  thank  you  for  for  this  charming  present.  There, 
.don't  say  a  word.  I  know  all  about  it.  Come  and  sit  down  by 
me.  Do  you  know  that  I  had  to  threaten  Mr.  Nordheim  before 
he  would  consent  that  you  should  come  up  here  ?" 

Marion  bowed  and  took  the  seat. 

"  I  have  not  had  my  breakfast.  Do  ring  that  bell,  and  you 
must  take  a  cup  of  coffee  with  me." 

Marion  was  about  to  decline,  but  the  impetuous  girl  declared 
he  should.  The  negress  came  in,  and  she  ordered  a  double 
breakfast.  She  gazed  at  Marion. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?" 

"  I  shall  be  seventeen  before  many  months  are  over." 

"  You  are  handsome  and  good,  and  I  shall  like  you  very 
much.  There,  don't  blush  and  look  foolish.  Wait  until  you 

3* 


58  VIGOR. 

hear  me  through.  You  know  my  relations  with  Mr.  Nordheim. 
There — don't  say  a  word — that  is  enough.  Mr.  Nordheim  is 
kind — very  kind — yet  he  is  very  jealous.  There  are  things 
that  I  need — must  have — I  crave  them.  I  will  have  them.  I 
crave  knowledge.  I  read — read — read  every  thing  that  I  can 
get  hold  of.  You  see  what  a  quantity  of  books  1  have  got" — 
(the  room  was  littered  up  with  books.)  "  I  have  read  them  all. 
Mr.  Nordheim  says  that  yon.  are  learning  different  languages. 
Is  that  so  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam,  I  am. learning  languages." 

"  How  many  have  you  acquired  ?" 

"  Two — Dutch  and  French.  I  am  now  learning  German.  I 
mean  to  learn  more  before  I  have  finished,"  observed  Marion 
in  reply. 

"  That  is  capital.  T  am  crazy  to  learn  French,  German,  Spa- 
nish, and  Italian.  Now  tell  me,  how  do  you  manage  ?" 

Marion  related  to  her  his  mode  of  learning  a  language. 

"  You  have  given  me  a  new  idea,  and  I  shall  not  lose  it. 
But  now  answer  me  another  question.  I  cannot  go  about  to 
coffee  houses  and  French  places.  How  can  I  acquire  the  pro- 
nunciation ?  I  know — don't  talk.  I  must  have  a  teacher. 
Now  you  can  find  me  a  proper  person  who  can  teach  me 
French,  German,  or  Spanish.  I  know  you  can.  Nordheira 
says  so,  and  he  is  willing  that  I  shall  have  one  of  your  selec- 
tion. Why,  Marion,  you  are  handsome  !  What  a  fool  Nord- 
heim is,  to  be  sure.  He  might  with  reason  be  ten  times  more 
jealous  of  you  than  any  man  he  has  ever  brought  here  yet." 

Marion  looked  confused. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid  of  me,  Marion.  I  know  your  posi- 
tion at  the  home  of  Mr.  Nordheim.  I  will  not  mention  the 
name  of  that  lady — it  is  too  pure  for  my  lips.  I  hope  she  is 
happy.  There — don't  say  any  thing.  You  can  serve  me  in 
many  ways.  Will  you  ?  That  is  enough.  I  frequently  need 
money.  Nordheim  will  always  give  it  to  you,  or  I  will  write 
a  note  to  you  when  I  want  any  special  favor.  Now  about  the 
teacher.  Will  you  find  one  for  me  ?  Some  oldish  man  who 
is  poor.''  Marion  promised  that  he  would  do  so.  "  Find  one, 
if  you  can,  who  can  teach  me  several  languages — -a  German, 
Pole,  or  Russian.  I  understand  those  people  speak  three  or 
four  languages  equally  well.  Did  you  notice  my  piano  in  the 
rear  parlor  ?  If  I  was  dressed  and  down  stairs  I  would  play 
and  sing  to  you.  Nordheim  has  had  me  taught  me  the  piano, 
and  to  sing — also  to  play  on  the  guitar  an  accompaniment  to 
myself  when  I  sing.  Oh  what  pleasure  !  I  should  not  have 


VIGOR.  59 

been  allowed  to  learn  that,  but  I  could  have  a  woman  lo  teach 
me  those  accomplishments.  Pshaw  !  what  am  I  talking  about. 
You  don't  understand  such  restraints,"  said  Miss  Norris.  Ma- 
rion did,  though.  He  was  wiser  than  she  thought.  "  What 
delight  that  bird  will  give  me  !  What  shall  I  call  him  ?  Oh, 
I  know — Marion.  That's  a  good  name.  I  want  you  to  get  me 
a  quantity  of  books — will  you  ?  You  say  '  Yes.'  I  will  send 
you  a  list  in  a  note,  and  you  must  get  the  money  from  Mr. 
Nordheim.  Look,  here  is  my  hand-writing.  What  do  you 
think  of  it?  'Neat  and  lady-like,'  you  say?  Will  you  be- 
lieve me  when  I  tell  you  that  when  Nordheim — when  I  be- 
came acquainted  with  him,  I  could  not  write  my  own  name  ? 
I  have  cause  to  be  grateful  to  him  for  some  things,  if  not  for 
others.  Now  I  know  you  are  anxious  to  get  off  to  that  horri- 
ble office.  Here  is  the  breakfast.  Help  me  to  devour  that, 
and  then  you  may  go.  Not  till  then."  She  poured  out  a  cup 
of  coffee,  made  him  eat  some  nice  toast,  and  when  he  had  fin- 
ished said,  "  Now  you  may  go,  Marion,  but  have  mercy  upon 
my  mania  to  learn  French,  and  get  me  a  teacher  suitable  to 
my  circumstances."  Marion  promised,  and  soon  after  took  his 
leave.  The  reader  who  remembers  chapter  eighth  of  this  book 
will  not  need  to  be  reminded  that  the  country  girl  Clara  Nor- 
ris, who  eighteen  months  previous  had  been  brought  by  Mr. 
Nordheim  to  the  city,  and  who  was  then  innocent  and  igno- 
rant, was  now  the  luxuriously  located,  and  the  well  read  and 
somewhat  literary  kept  mistress.  Nordheim  had  bestowed 
upon  her  every  accomplishment  that  he  could,  consistently 
with  his  jealousy  of  male  teachers.  Miss  Norris  had  led  a  life 
of  seclusion,  and  devoted  herself  to  study  and  to  reading.  Her 
mind  was  maturing  for  the  most  deadly  purposes.  She  was 
armed  with  beauty,  and  needed  but  the  sharper  weapons 
which  the  mind's  accomplishment  would  give  her,  to  make  her 
vengeance  felt  whenever  she  should  repay  upon  man  the  in- 
jury she  had  received  from  his  sex.  Marion  reflected  well 
upon  his  position  as  he  walked  from  Bond  street  down  Hud- 
son, and  when  he  reached  St.  John's  Park  one  of  the  gates  was 
open,  and  he  passed  in  and  took  a  seat  in  an  arbor.  There  he 
remained  over  an  hour,  endeavoring  to  satisfy  his  own  con- 
science as  to  what  was  right  and  proper  for  him  to  do  under 
the  peculiar  circumstance  in  which  he  was  placed.  "  I  am 
living  in  the  house  with  the  pure  wife  of  uiy  employer.  She 
is  like  a  sister  to  me,  and  here  I  am  forced  by  her  husband 
to  be  a  sort  of  platonic  friend  .to  his  kept  mistress  !  Now 
mind,  Marion  Monck.  Do  what  is  right.  You  are  obliged  to 


60  VIGOR. 

do  what  your  employer  civilly  asks  3-011  to  do,  but  as  the 
only  person  affected  is  the  wife — and  situated  as  I  am,  in  the 
house  with  her,  I  will  not  lose  her  confidence,  come  what  will. 
If  she  acts  upon  what  I  shall  tell  her,  why  then,  there  will  bo 
a  pretty  general  smash  up  and  breaking  of  things,  and  I  must 
take  my  chance."  He  found  Mr.  Nordhciiu  sit  the  office.  The 
latter  quietly  enquired  if  he  delivered  the  bird  and  note,  and 
when  answered  in  the  affirmative,  made  no  farther  comment. 

Mr.  Wilson,  the  book-keeper,  nodded  to  Marion  and  whis- 
pered, "  Been  up  in  Broome  street,  eh  ?  Expensive  in  a  finan- 
cial point  of  view,  eh  '("  Marion  smiled  and  went  at  his  work. 
When  evening  came  he  hurried  home,  and  although  anxious, 
yet  as  he  opened  the  door  of  the  tea-room  in  a  cheerful  man- 
ner, he  caught  the  attention  of  Mrs.  Nordheira,  who  congratu- 
lated him  in  being  in  so  good  spirits.  "lam,  dear  Bessy, 
and  I  will  tell  you  why." 

She  gazed  into  his  face  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "  Tell  me 
why." 

"  Because  I  am  placed  in  an  awkward  situation.  I  have 
not  shown  that  confidence  in  you  that  I  ought  to  have  done. 
Come  what  will,  after  tea  I  want  you  to  go  up  in  my  room.  I 
have  some  writing  to  do,  and  when  we  get  up  there  you  shall 
know  all."  She  smiled.  Tea  was  soon  over,  and  Marion  went 
to  his  room.  He  was  soon  followed  by  Mrs.  Nordheim. 
"  Now  be  seated,  Bessy,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  that  I  have 
kept  from  you.  It  may  make  trouble,  but  you  shall  never  say  I 
concealed  any  thing  from  you,  in  any  way  or  shape,  or  look 
coldly  upon  me  as  you  did  last  night."  Marion  took  her  hand 
and  told  her  all.  Every  thing  that  Nordheim — her  husband 
had  said  and  done,  and  all  about  the  beautiful  mistress  and  her 
well  furnished  home.  She  never  spoke  a  word.  "  Well, 
Bessy,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Why  don't  you  say  something  ? 
Are  you  angry  with  me  ?" 

"  No,  no.  God  bless  you,  Marion.  You  have  made  me  very, 
very  happy  by  what  you  have  told  me.  I  could  not  bear  the 
thought  that  my  loved  brother — my  Marion,  my  friend,  that  I 
would  trust  with  life,  could  be  a  traitor  and  keep  back  any  se- 
crets from  me.  No — angry  ?  No.  Why  should  I  be  with 
you  ?  But  I  should  have  been  outraged  if  you  had  not  told 
me.  So  they  would  get  you  into  the  meshes  of  that  lady, 
would  they  ?" 

,  Marion  was  astonished,  and  asked,  "  Well,  Bessy  ;  it  don't 
seem  to  annoy  you  at  all,  what  I  have  told  you  ?" 

She  smiled.     "  Brother  mine,  I  have   known  it  all  along. 


VIGOR.  61 

All  I  cared  about  was  your  learning  what  I  already  knew,  and 
keeping  it  a  secret  from  me  that  y^u  did  know  it.  As  for 
that  girl — or  Mr.  Nordheim,  I  don't  care  the  weight  of  a 
feather  what  they  do.  Did  I  love  him,  I  ivight  feel  different. 
I  married  him  to  obtain  two  thousand  dollars  a  year.  It  is 
settled  upon  me,  and  as  long  as  I  act  right  it  cannot  be  altered. 
Let  him  do  as  he  pleases.  Keep  as  many  women  as  he 
pleases.  Seduce  as  many  girls  as  he  chooses,  or  corrupt  as 
many  married  women  as  he  sees  fit.  It  is  none  of  my  business 
so  long  as  he  don't  sport  them  in  my  face,  or  bring  them  into 
my  house.  No.w  that  perfect  confidence  is  restored  between 
you  and  me,  I  rather  like  the  idea  that  Mr.  Nordheim  should 
have  selected  you  to  get  books'  and  language  teachers  for  Miss 
Clara.  It  will  be  extremely  funny  for  us  to  know  how  my  moral 
husband  progresses.  But  Marion,  mind  you  " — what  she  was 
going  to  say — whether  to  caution  Marion  against  being  en- 
trapped in  the  golden  hair  of  Miss  Clara,  it  is  not  our  province 
to  reckon.  "  Marion,  you  may  kiss  rne  to-night  as  long  as  you 
please."  Marion  'drew  her  upon  his  knees,  unfastened  her 
hair,  and  availed  himself  of  her  offer,  saying,  as  he  almost 
smothered  her  with  his  loving  caresses,  "  Dear  Bessy.  I  im- 
agined you  would  be  outrageously  angry  with  Mr.  Nordheim 
and  the  lady,  and  that  at  least  you  would  get  a  divorce  or  do 
something  very  dreadful.  I  am  agreeably  disappointed." 

"  Marion,  you  need  not  have  had  any  such  fears.  He  is  not 
worth  the  trouble.  Now  stop  kissing  me.  Go  to  work  at  your 
desk.  It  is  nearly  twelve  o'clock,  and  I  must  go  to  bed,  for  I 
am  weary  and  tired.  Good  night,  Marion ;  you  have  shown 
that  you  are  a  dear  good  brother,  and  I  will  never  be  angry 
again  with  you  a  moment.  So  she  told  you  that  you  were  very 
handsome  ?  She  is  a  fool,  and  ought  to  know  that  you  are 
merely  a  child." 

She  left  the  room,  and  he  went  to  work  with  his  pen. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Marriage  of  Thomai  Granville — General  Jackson — The   party  from 
Ntw  York. 

THERE  was  a  gay  party  assembled  in  an  old  fashioned  dwell- 
ing in  the  city  of  Baltimore,  on  Christmas  eve,  18 — .  The 
building  was  in  the  old  portion  of  the  monumental  city,  and 
was  known  as  "  the  Castle."  Few  of  our  readers  that  have 


62  VIGOR. 

visited  that  city,  but  what  will  remember  it.  The  rooms  were 
spacious,  and  crowded  wiMi  guests,  who  comprised  some  of  the 
oldest  and  best  families  in  Maryland.  There  was  more  beauty 
in  that  assembly  than  had  been  gathered  together  for  many 
years.  Washington,  the  capital,  had  sent  down  several  guests, 
among  whom  was  the  venerable  President,  whose  slight  figure 
and  stern  military  aspect  made  all  who  approached  him  pause 
with  respect  and  reverence.  It  was  General  Jackson.  Several 
senators  and  members  of  the  House  of  Representatives  had 
come  down  with  him. 

There  had  been  a  wedding  at  five  o'clock  that  afternoon  in 
the  Cathedral,  and  Archbishop  Eccleston  had  performed  the 
ceremony  which  made  Thomas  Granville  the  husband  of  Cathe- 
rine Pinckney.  The  venerable  edifice  was  crowded  with  spec- 
tators, who  had  been  invited  to  the  wedding,  for  Granville  had 
troops  of  friends,  and  the  beautiful  and  accomplished  bride 
had  been  the  belle  of  Baltimore.  She  had  refused  scores  of 
offers,  for  she  had  long  given  her  heart  to  Tom.  To  be  refused 
by  Kate  Pinckney  was  a  part  of  a  Baltimore  young  man's  edu- 
cation. His  education  was  not  deemed  complete  unless  he 
had  offered  his  hand  and  been  refused  by  Kate.  The  more 
intimate  friends  had  been  invited  to  a"  large  evening  parfy  at 
the  Castle,  given  by  the  venerable  grandmother  of  the  bride, 
whose  age  was  nearly  ninety,  and  yet  she  was  as  gay  and  as 
lively  as  any  one  of  the  youngest  in  that  gay  party.  She  was 
the  widow  of  one  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence, but  had  outlived  her  worthy  husband  half  a  century. 
She  was  rich,  and  although  eccentric,  and  at  times  very  penu- 
rious, yet  when  a  favorite  grandchild  married,  she  spared  no 
pains  or  expense  to  make  a  brilliant  display.  A  daughter  had 
married  one  of  the  most  gallant  of  our  commodores  in  the  last 
war,  and  from  this  marriage  came  seven  lovely  girls  and  two 
sons.  It  was  one  of  those  beautiful  girls  whose  marriage  had 
taken  place  that  day. 

All  the  other  sisters  were  present,  and  their  names  were 
somewhat  remarkable.  The  mother  had  named  the  younger 
daughters  after  leading  men.  There  was  Miss  Madison  Piuck- 
ney,  next  to  Kate  in  years  ;  then  came  Miss  Monroe  Pinck- 
ney, Clay  Pinckney,  and  Calhoun  Pinckney.  The  sisters,  from 
the  eldest,  Kate,  to  the  youngest,  Calhoun  Pinckney,  were  not 
less  celebrated  for  their  beauty  than  their  superior  education 
and  accomplishments.  Their  father,  when  alive,  had  been  a 
devoted  friend  of  General  Jackson,  and  the  mother  was  not 
less  so  after  his  death.  Hence  the  presence  of  the  President 


VIGOR.  63 

on  this  occasion.  He  was  in  good  spirits,  and  seemed  as  happy 
as  though  no  cares  of  State,  no  United  States  Bank,  or  no  dis- 
union troubles  preyed  upon  his  mind.  He  even  danced  a  reel 
with  the  venerable  old  dame,  whose  age  lacked  but  five  years 
of  reaching  a  century.  The  President  offered  his  congratula- 
tions to  the  bride  and  her  husband  with  a  hearty  good-will,  and 
observed  to  the  bridegroom, 

"  Tom,  I  understand  that  you  are  about  to  engage  ill  mer- 
cantile business  in  New  York.  I  hope  you  will  be  successful ; 
but  merchandizing  is  but  a  species  of  gambling,  and  should  you 
not  succeed,  come  and  see  me." 

Tom  had  visited  Washington — he  had  told  stories  and  anec- 
dotes, sung  songs  at  the  President's  fireside,  and  made  many 
a  gloomy,  anxious  hour  pass  merrily  to  the  old  hero,  with  whom 
he  became  a  great  favorite.  "  Come  and  see  me  "  meant 
worlds  when  it  came  from  Andrew  Jackson's  lips  ;  and  when, 
not  many  years  after,  Tom  did  go  and  see  the  old  man  at  the 
White  House,  he  made  him  dine  with  him  ;  and  when  Tom 
felt  almost  discouraged  at  his  future  prospects  being  so  gloomy, 
and  was  about  leaving  after  the  dinner,  General  Jackson  told 
him  to  wait  a  moment.  Tom  complied,  and  walked  to  one  of 
the  windows  that  overlooked  the  Potomac.  The  President 
touched  his  elbow. 

"  Tom,  that  recitation  you  gave  after  dinner,  which  you  say 
is  from  a  play  of  our  friend  Howard  Payne,  was  very  good — 
very  capital.  Appropriate  to  you,  Tom,  eh  ?  Pronounce  it 
again  here.  I  like  it." 

Tom  repeated  : 

"  I  can  believe  that  beauty  such  as  thine 
May  possess  a  thousand  fascinating  snares  to  lure  the 
Wavering  and  confound  the  weak ;  but,  what  is  his 
Honor,  that  a  sigh  can  shake,  or  his  virtue,  that  a 
Tear  can  move  ?    Truth,  valor,  justice,  constancy 
Of  soul,  these  are  the  attributes  of  manly  natures. 
Be  woman  e'er  so  beauteous,  man  waa  born  for 
Nobler  purposes  than  to  be  her  slave." 

"  So  he  was,  Tom — so  he  was.  You  and  Kate  have  parted. 

Very  bad— d d  bad.  But,  cheer  up.  What  do  you  intend 

to  do  1  Brother  won't  help  you,  eh  ?" 

"  No,  General,  he  will  not.  I  believe  I  am  abandoned  by 
all. — have  got  no  friends.  Don't  know  what  I  shall  do,  unless 
I  turn  actor." 

"  You  would  make  a  first  rate  actor,  Tom,  but  wait  a  while. 
You  are  wild,  Tom — everybody  says  so — I  think  so  nryself. 
But  you  must  keep  straight  with  me.  Have  you  any  money  2" 


64  VIGOR. 

"  No,  General,  not  fifty  cents." 

"  I  will  give  you  thirty  dollars — lend  it  to  you.  To-morrow 
I  will  send  your  name  into  the  Senate  for  confirmation  as 
consul  to  the  second  city  in  France.  Here  is  the  money  to  get 
out  of  this  place  with.  Come  and  see  me  before  you  go  abroad. 
You  will  have  plenty  of  friends  as  soou  as  your  appointment 
is  in  the  Globe.  Good-bye." 

But  we  are  getting  in  advance  of  our  narrative.  Our  read- 
ers must  return  from  this  little  digression  to  the  wedding 
party  and  supper.  All  the  Granville  family  were  there,  ex- 
cept Mrs.  Pitt  Granville.  Mr.  W.  Pitt  Granville,  his  son  Wal- 
ter, and  his  daughter  Isabel,  had  come  on  from  New  York  to 
be  present  at  the  wedding.  Isabel  was  one  of  the  six  brides- 
maids of  aunt  Kate — her  sisters  and  Miss  Benson  making  the 
other  five.  Walter  was  making  the  best  use  of  bis  time  with 
Miss  Madison  Pinckney,  with  whom  it  may  not  be  out  of  place 
to  mention  that  he  was  desperately  in  love — and  these  young 
people  were  actually  engaged  to  be  married.  This  was  a  secret 
kept  from  the  elder  Granville,  who  would  have  murdered  his 
son  in  cold  blood  if  he  had  suspected  such  a  thing  for  an  in- 
stant. Miss  Margaret  Benson,  a  daughter  of  Colonel  Benson, 
had  come  on  with  the  party  from  New  York,  as  a  friend  of 
Isabella  and  her  aunt  Kate.  She  acted  as  one  of  the  brides- 
maids, as  before  stated. 

Tom  had  six  chosen  friends  from  New  York  who  acted  as 
his  groomsmen.  The  first  was  Colonel  W.  Mac  Neil ;  the  oth- 
ers were  Doctor  Carnochan,  a  young  surgeon  who  at  that  pe- 
riod had  but  little  else  to  do  than  attend  weddings,  or  any 
other  amusing  affair,  though  now  the  leading  surgeon  of  the 
country,  if  not  of  the  world.  A  third  was  an  Englishman  of 
good  family,  a  Mr.  Sidney  Herbert  Cedar,  who  wrote  tales  for 
magazines,  and  gained  by  ;<  hook  or  crook  a  living."  The  fourth 
was" Mr.  Francis  Popinjay,  who  lived  oif  his  wits  and  his  wife's 
allowance  from  out  of  a  bankrupt  estate  swindled  out  of  the 
Government  by  a  notorious  tea  importer.  The  fifth  was  a  cha- 
racter well  known  in  New  York  as  Colonel  Le  Grand  Peacock, 
and  the  sixth  was  Walter  Granville,  Tom's  nephew. 

All  the  New  York  visitors  were  putting  up  at  Barnum's 
Hotel,  and  late  at  night,  when  the  party  at  the  Castle  was 
broken  up,  another  elegant  repast  was  spread  by  direction  of 
Mr.  Granville,  under  Barnum's  superintendence.  Some  of  the 
guests  kept  it  up  until  daylight,  in  the  long  dining-room  of  the 
hotel. 

It  was   decided   that  immediately  after  the  wedding,  the 


VIGOR.  65 

bridal  party  should  return  to  New  York,  and  then  the  bride 
and  groom  should  go  to  housekeeping  ut  once,  in  a  house  pre- 
pared by  Mr.  W.  P.  Granville,  and  there  spend  their  honey- 
moon. We  ought  here  to  mention,  that  the  engagement  be- 
tween Thomas  Granville  and  Kate  Pinckney  had  been  of  some 
duration.  It  would  have  been  still  longer,  had  not  Mr.  Gran- 
ville  senior  opened  a  negotiation  with  the  venerable  grandmo- 
ther of  the  bride.  Mr.  W.  Pitt  Granville  agreed  that  imme- 
diately after  the  wedding  he  would  take  Tom  into  the  firm  of 
Granville  and  Nordheim,  and  give  him  an  interest  in  the  busi- 
ness ;  and  the  relict  of  the  signer  of  the  Declaration,  who  was 
a  shrewd  business  woman  in  her  way,  agreed  to  place  $25,000 
in  the  concern  for  Tom,  if  he  kept  steady  and  devoted  to  busi- 
ness one.  year.  This  proved  a  prudent  and  safe  clause. 

The  elder  Granville  was  delighted  with  the  wedding.  He 
saw  hope  for  his  favorite  brother,  "  Master  Tom,"  as  he  called 
him,  and  he  never  dreamed  that  Tom  would  sport  with  such 
brilliant  prospects,  or  pursue  a  course  that  would  dash  his 
hopes  to  the  ground.  The  elder  Granville  confessed  to  Col- 
onel Mac  Neil  that  he  had  never  witnessed  a  bridal  that  opened 
with  such  brilliant  prospects  as  that  of  his  brother.  Tom  was 
gifted,  clever  and  amiable,  and  although  somewhat  eccentric 
and  extremely  lazy,  yet  Mr.  Granville  concluded  that  when  he 
became  the  husband  of  the  brilliant,  beautiful,  and  well  de- 
scended Kate  Pinckney — one  who  brought  money  to  him  and 
a  powerful  connexion — one  who  actually  worshipped  the  very 
ground  which  Tom  trod  upon,  and  whom  Tom  professed  to  love 
deeply  and  devotedly  in  return,  they  would  be  happy.  These 
were  hopeful  prospects  for  the  new  beginners  in  married  life  ; 
and  what  would  have  been  the  fate  of  any  one  of  the  brilliant 
crowd  at  that  wedding,  if  he  or  she  had  prophesied  that  ere  one 
year  had  passed,  Tom  would  have  left  business  and  his  brother, 
separated  from  his  wife,  so  recently  a  bride,  and  that  in  that 
space  of  time  she  would  have  applied  for  a  divorce,  and  that 
ere  two  years  had  passed,  it  would  have  been  granted  by  the 
Legislature  of  Maryland.  Such  is  life,  under  the  most  happy 
auspices. 

The  morning  after  the  wedding,  all  of  the  party  that  had 
come  on  from  New  York  returned  thither  with  the  bride  and 
groom';  and  as  soon  as  they  arrived  in  that  city,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Tom  Granville  left  for  Niagara  Falls. 


66  VIGOR. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

\ 

The  Supper  at  the  City  Hold— The  Count  Falsechinski. 

MARION  did  not  go  to  Baltimore  to  attend  the  wedding  of 
Thomas  Granville,  although  the  latter  gave  him  a  cordial  invi- 
tation to  do  so.  His  opinion  of  Tom  was  not  very  flattering  to 
that  gentleman  in  a  business  point  of  view.  He  thought  that 
Tom  was  gifted,  could  tell  a  good  story  and  sing  a  song  very 
prettily  ;  but  in  all  other  respects  he  regarded  him  a's  a  very 
light  and  silly  fellow.  He  had  a  good  excuse  for  not  accepting 
the  invitation  to  the  wedding.  In  the  first  place  the  elder 
Granville  would  not  have  allowed  Marion  to  leave  the  counting 
room  when  he  himself  was  absent.  He  was  now  seventeen 
years  of  age — almost  fully  developed  in  stature,  and  hia  fea- 
tures possessed  a  dignity  that  made  him  appear  older  than  he 
really  was.  Two  years  and  a  half  in  the  counting-room  had 
made  quite  a  change  in  the  South  Carolina  boy.  He  had  been 
promoted  step  by  step  for  his  devotion  to  business,  and  now  he 
ranked  next  to  Mr.  Wilson,  the  head  clerk  or  book-keeper. 
Marion  entered  vessels  and  goods  at  the  Custom  House  when 
they  came  consigned  to  the  firm  ;  he  made  sales  of  merchand- 
ize, purchased  produce  for  foreign  orders,  and  chartered  ves- 
sels when  needed.  He  also  wrote  most  of  the  domestic  busi- 
ness letters  of  the  firm,  and  not  a  few  foreign  ones.  He  had 
assisted  Mr.  Wilson  so  often  with  his  books,  that  he  told  Ma- 
rion as  a  great  mark  of  his  esteem  and  respect,  "  Marion,  if  I 
were  to  die,  the  best  thing  the  firm  could  do  in  a  financial 
point  of  view,  would  be  to  put  you  in  my  place.  You  can 
keep  the  books  as  welL.as  I  can.'' 

Mr.  Nordheim  did  not  go  to  tho  wedding.  He  was  obliged 
to  remain  and  sign  checks  and  papers  during  the  absence  of 
Mr.  Granville.  Marion,  since  his  interview  with  Miss  Norris, 
had  received  several  notes  from  her,  giving  him  commissions 
to  purchase  books,  papers,  journals,  and  many  other  things. 
He  had  frequently  taken  them  up  to  her  himself,  and  some- 
times sent  a  note,  with  the  article  ordered,  by  the  porter.  Mr. 
Nordheim  had  frequently  given  him  money  to  pay  for  such  or- 
ders, and  sometimes  two  hundred  dollars  were  called  for  in 
one  sum.  He  never  refused  a  demand  from  that  quarter,  and 


VIGOR.  67 

thanked  Marion  for  relieving  him  of  trouble  and  bother.  -He 
was  really  grateful. 

Marion  had  made  several  attempts  to  procure  a  proper  per- 
son as  teacher  of  languages  to  Miss  Norris,  but  the  summer 
and  autumn  had  passed  since  the  request  was  made,  and  he 
had  been  unsuccessful.  He  almost  despaired  of  finding  one, 
and  he  wrote  an  apologetic  note  to  that  effect.  The  reply  was, 
"  Don't  give  it  up.  I  will  wait." 

"  After  the  return  of  Mr.  G-ranville  from  the  wedding  at 
Baltimore,  Marion  was  relieved  from  many  duties  that  became 
his  while  Mr.  Granville  was  absent,  and  he  found  more  leisure 
to  attend  to  his  own  studies  and  amusements.  About  a  month 
after  the  marriage,  he  was  invited  by  Colonel  Mac  Neil  to  pay 
him  a  visit  at  his  room  in  the  City  Hotel,  and  to  meet  a  few 
friends.  Marion  accepted  the  invitation,  and  at  nine  o'clock 
was  at  the  place  designated.  The  Colonel  had  invited  a  dozen 
people  to  a  supper  which  was  arranged  to  come  off  in  his  own 
parlor,  for  he  had  a  handsome  suite  of  rooms  in  the  City  Ho- 
tel, which  was  then  kept  by  Chester  Jennings,  and  was  the 
principal  hotel  in  New  York.  It  was  here  that  all  the  great 
balls  and  famous  dinners  came  off,  and  it  was  at  the  City  Hotel 
that  strangers  of  any  note  stopped  when  they  came  to  the  city. 

The  supper  was  truly  a  recherche  affair,  and  did  credit  to 
the  Colonel's  good  taste  in  ordering  it.  It  is  a  secret  that  few 
men  possess,  but  Col.  Mac  Neil  was  an  old  traveller.  There 
were  present  at  it  several  bloods  and  fast  young  men  of  the 
town,  and  they  drank,  sang,  and  seemed  to'  enjoy  themselves 
amazingly.  Dr.  Carnochan  was  at  the  table,  and  so  was  Mr. 
Cedar,  the  story  writer  ;  and  to  these  gentlemen  Marion  was 
formally  presented.  There  was  a  Mr.  Wolcott,  a  son  of  an 
ex-Governor  of  Connecticut,  a  foreign  count  with  an  unpro- 
nounceable name,  and  an  Irish  gentleman,  that  Mac  introduced 
to  Marion  as  Mr.  John  O'Doemall.  After  the  supper  had  been 
disposed  of,  the  Colonel  introduced  cards,  and  parties  were 
made  up  in  different  parts  of  the  room.  Marion  was  seated 
near  the  foreign  Count,  and  as  he  noticed  that  he  did  not  seem 
disposed  to  join  himself  to  any  of  the  parties  at  the  oard  tables, 
he  determined  to  form  a  more  intimate  acquaintance,  and  asked, 

"  Count,  do  you  not  intend  to  play  ?" 

"  No  sare." 

"  I  believe  I  was  introduced  to  you  in  a  somewhat  informal 
manner  by  our  host,  but  your  name  escaped  me.  May  I  ask 
you  to  repeat  it  ?" 

"  The  Count  Adolphus  Falsechinski,  at  your  service,  sare." 


68  VIGOR. 

"  Count,  I  am  really  pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance  ;" 
and  Marion  opened  upon  him  in  French.  The  Count  spoke  it 
like  a  French  native.  Dutch — low  Dutch  came  next.  That 
the  Count  was  at  home  in,  and  you  could  not  doubt  but  that 
he  had  lived  in  the  Netherlands  from  boyhood.  The  Count 
was  e-qually  pleased  to  find  some  one  who  could  speak  Nether- 
land  Dutch,  as  it  was  a  somewhat  rare  accomplishment  in  New 
York. 

"  Pray,  sir  Count,  are  you  a  Dutch  Count  1" 

"  No  sare — I  am  a  Polish  nobleman.  I  left  my  own  country 
after  the  late  revolution." 

"  Then  you  speak  other  languages — perhaps  better,  if  that 
were  possible,  than  you  do  Dutch,  French,  or  English." 

"Sare,  I  speak  the  English,  the  French,  the  German,  the 
Russian,  the  Danish,  the  Spanish,  the  Italian,  the  Portuguese, 
the  Holland  Dutch,  and  of  course  the  language  of  my  own 
beautiful  loved  country,  which  is  Polish.  I  am  also  a  good 
Greek  as  well  as  Latin  scholar,  and  having  resided  in  Greece 
some  time,  I  speak  the  modern  Greek." 

Marion  bowed  to  the  Count  with  the  most  profound  respect, 
and  the  thought  came  to  him  that  it  was  extremely  unfortunate 
that  the  Count  was  not  poor,  as  he  would  be  just  the  person  to 
engage  as  language  teacher  to  Miss  Norris.  He  took  a  good 
look  at  the  Count,  and  examined  his  dress.  He  wore  white 
pantaloons.  It  was  January,  and  the  night  was  bitter  cold  ; 
but  Counts  and  other  distinguished  foreigners  are  permitted 
to  do  queer  things.  Still  Marion  would  not  have  been  much 
less  surprised  had  the  Count  wore  no  unmentionables  at  all. 
The  coat  was  a  military  arrangement,  and  buttoned  close  up  to 
the  throat.  Although  it  was  warm  in  the  room,  yet  the  coat 
clasped  its  owner  closely,  and  showed  no  signs  of  unbuttoning. 
Conversation  commenced  again,  and  Marion  4evoted  himself  to 
the  Count  until  the  party  broke  up.  Occasionally  he  watched 
the  luck  of  the  players,  and  particularly  the  Colonel.  He 
could  not  exactly  tell  who  was  the  winner,  until  he  heard  the 
Count  remark, 

"  Ah,  what  a  happy  dog  !  The  Colonel  Mac  Neil  has  wou 
three  thousand  dollars  tbis  evening.  It  will  pay  for  many 
suppers." 

As  the  guests  of  the  Colonel  were  passing  through  the  hall 
of  the  hotel,  Marion  found  himself  svalking  by  the  side  of  the 
handsome  Count. 

"  Do  you  go  up  or  down  town  ?"  he  asked, 

"  Up,"  replied  the  Count. 


VIGOR.  69 

"  And  as  I  am  going  the  same  way,  suppose  we  keep  each 
other  company  ?" 

"  It  will  give  me  the  very  greatest  of  pleasure  to  do  so," 
said  the  Count ;  and  so  they  walked  up  Broadway.  It  was  a 
bitter  cold  night.  Marion  wore  a  thick  overcoat,  but  before 
the  two  pedestrians  had  got  as  far  as  Canal  street,  he  was  al- 
most perished.  The  Count  had  no  cloak  or  overcoat,  but  lie 
did  not  seem  to  feel  the  cold.  Marion  chatted  away  about  the 
parties  with  whom  they  had  spent  the  evening,  and  the  Count 
gave  him  a  great  quantity  of  very  useful  information.  He  was 
quite  indignant  that  the  young  blades  who  lost  their  money 
should  have  been  so  green  as  to  lose  it  to  Colonel  Mac  Neil. 

"  I  am  sure,  Count,  from  some  of  your  remarks,  that  you 
understand  '  bluff'  better  or  as  well  as  any  gentleman  who  was 
in  that  parlor.  How  comes  it  then  that  you  did  not  play  and 
win  some  money  yourself?" 

The  Count  replied  that  there  were  many  reasons,  and  some 
day  perhaps  Marion  would  be  convinced  that  one  reason  alone 
was  enough  to  prevent  his  playing. 

The  wind  blew  down  Broadway  so  cold  and  so  piercing,  and 
withal  so  wild  and  fierce,  that  Marion  remarked  it  could  not 
have  long  left  the  region  of  the  frozen  North,  where  icebergs 
abounded.  On,  on  they  went  up  Broadway.  Prince  and 
Houston  streets  were  passed,  and  when  they  came  to  the  cor- 
ner of  Bond  street,  Marion  stopped,  remarking, 

"  Well,  Count,  we  must  part  here,  for  I  turn  up  this  street 
to  the  Bowery." 

"  So  do  I,"  answered  the  Count. 

The  weather  seemed  to  become  more  intensely  cold.  They 
reached  the  residence  of  Mr.  Nordheim.  Again  Marion  stop- 
ped— so  did  the  Count.  "At  last  I  am  home,"  said  the  for- 
mer. "  How  much  farther  are  you  going,  Count  ?"  demanded 
Marion. 

"  Me  ? — well,  I  really  don't  know.  I  shall  walk  down  town 
again,  and  if  I  do  not  find  some  place  open  that  keeps  open  all 
night,  I  shall  have  to  keep  walking,  unless  I  get  so  very  cold 
as  to  make  it  necessary  for  me  to  warm  my  toes  in  the  watch- 
house." 

Marion  was  thunderstruck.  "  Count,  I  wish  you  to  come  in. 
I  have  a  good  fire  in  my  room.  It  is  too  cold  to  talk  out  here." 

The  Count  declined. 

"  Psha !  no  nonsense  with  me — you  don't  know  me.  You 
can  rest  yourself  a  few  moments,  and  then  if  you  wish  to  go, 
you  shall.  It  is  near  two  o'clock." 


70  VIGOR. 

The  Count  followed  Marion  into  the  house,  and  with  littlo 
noise  they  ascended  to  his  room.  There  was  a  cheerful  fire  iu 
the  grate.  Candles  were  on  the  table  ready  to  be  lighted,  and 
in  addition  there  was  a  light  supper  waiting  for  Marion. 

"  Seat  .yourself,  Count,  and  be  at  home." 

The  Count  drew  a  chair  to  the  fire,  gave  a  slight  shiver,  and 
remarked,  as  though  he  had  just  found  it  out,  "  It  is  quite  cool 
to-night." 

"  Decidedly,"  said  Marion,  who  had  got  off  his  overcoat,  and 
had  taken  a  seat  in  a  cozy  cushioned  rocking-chair.  "  Now, 
Count,  I  want  you  to  deal  frankly  with  me.  1  am  of  the  opin- 
ion that  you  have  no  room  to  go  to  to-night." 

"  You  are  perfectly  correct.     Such  is  the  fact." 

"  Excuse  me,  Count,  I  do  not  wish  to  pry  into  your  affairs  ; 
but  when  a  gentlemanly  person  like  yourself  makes  such  an 
admission,  it  is  high  time  that  some  friend  should  find  out  what 
it  means." 

"  You  are  right.  You  noticed  that  I  ate  very  heartily  to- 
night at  the  supper  ?" 

"  I  did — and  wondered  at  it.-" 

"  This  night  food  passed  my  lips  for  the  first  time  in  three 
days." 

"  Count,  Count,  this  is  too  bad  !"  and  Marion  looked  at  the 
supper.  The  Count  understood  i't. 

"  No,  no.     I  have  ate  enough  for  three  days  more." 

"  How  is  it  that  I  find  you  in  such  company,  and  without  a 
home  to  go  to  ?" 

"Simply  this,  that  I  have  kept  up  appearances  to  the  last. 
Col.  Mac  Neil  knew  me  under  other  circumstances.  He  knows 
that  I  can  handle  cards  better  than  he  can.  He  knows  that  I 
am  too  poor  to  play.  He  invited  me  to-night,  with  the  under- 
standing that  if  he  was  beat  by  any  of  his  rich  opponents,  I  was 
to  take  his  place,  he  was  to  furnish  me  with  means,  and  my 
share  of  the  plunder  would  have  been  whatever  he  chose  to 
give  me.  He  was  lucky  all  the  evening,  and  my  services  were 
not  needed.  I  was  too  proud  to  even  tell  Ihe  person  whose 
supper  I  had  eaten,  that  I  had  not  a  cent,  or  a  place  to  lay  my 
head  to-night.  Had  I  done  so,  I  dare  say  he  would  have 
handed  me  a  five,  as  he  would  have  done  to  a  beggar,  but 
would  never  have  met  me  as  an  equal  again." 

"  Count,  do  you  know  that  you  cannot  get  out  of  this  room 
to-night  ?" 

The  Count  insisted  that  he  would  go — that  he  was  sure  that 
he  should  be  a  trouble,  and  made  a  thousand  apologies. 


VIGOR.  71 

"  I  would  cheerfully  let  you  have  money  to-night,  Count, 
but  no  hotel  is  open,  and  I  really  have  business  for  you  to  do 
in  tEe  morning." 

"  Business  for  me  !"  the  Count  repeated,  as  though  anything 
for  him  to  do  was  an  utter,  and  very  absurd  idea.  Hohad  lost 
all  hope. 

"  Yes.  Business — occupation.  Something  that  will  em- 
ploy your  time,  and  that  will  give  you  an  income  that  will  sup- 
port you  like  a  gentleman,  as  I  believe  you  are.  Yonder  is  a 
large  double  bed — you  have  got  to  occupy  one  side,  I  the 
other." 

The  Count  would  not — he  would  sit  by  the  fire.  But  no — 
Marion  would  not  consent  to  anything  but  that  the  Count  should 
immediately  undress  and  go  to  bed.  The  Count  was  in  de- 
spair. He  would  not  undress — he  would  lie  down  upon  the 
carpet,  but  he  would  not  trespass  so  much  upon  the  kindness 
of  Mr.  Monck.  Marion  became  really  angry,  and  the  Count 
saw  that  it  was  so.  He  rose  from  his  seat,  and  with  quiet  dig- 
nity, said, 

"  Be  it  so.  But  you  might  have  spared  me  from  showing 
my  disgrace."  As  he  said  this  he  slowly  unbuttoned  his  coat 
and  removed  it  from  his  body,  and  burst  into  tears. 

So  did  Marion.     "  My  poor  Count,  is  it  possible  !" 

The  Count  was  vestless  and  shirtless.  Not  a  rag  covered 
him  but  that  old  military  coat  and  the  close-fitting  military 
stock.  He  quietly  took  off  the  pair  of  white  pantaloons  and 
his  boots.  He  had  not  even  a  pair  of  stockings. 

"  Do  not  be  angry  with  me,  Mr.  Monck.  This  is  not  my 
seeking — you  made  me  do  it ;"  and  as  Marion  continued  silent, 
he  added,  "  I  ought  not  to  have  come  here,  and  then  I  should 
not  have  been  exposed." 

"  Exposed  !"  repeated  Marion.  "  Why,  Count,  you  don't 
know  me.  Thank  God,  you  are  not  far  from  my  size.  Now 
Count,  I  want  you  to  oblige  me  ;"  and  he  opened  a  bureau,  and 
took  from  it  two  pair  of  thick  woolen  under  shirts.  "  Put 
them  on,  Count."  Two  pair  of  woolen  drawers.  "  Put  them 
on."  A  pair  of  thick  socks,  and  last  a  fine  linen  shirt  were 
laid  across  the  chair.  "  All  must  go  on." 

The  Count  consented. 

"  Xow  these  pantaloons — this  vest,  Count.  Last,  not  least, 
this  coat.  Here  is  a  new  stock.  Now  Count,  don't  stop  yet — 
I  am  master  here.  Put  on  this  cloak — I  never  wear  it.  Now 
Count,  you  can  take  all  these  things  off,  and  go  to  bed  as  soon 
as  you  please,  but  all  have  to  go  on  in  the  morning  ;  and  to 


72  VIGOR. 

relieve  your  mind  of  .all  obligation,  let  me  say  this — that  be- 
fore to-morrow  night  I  mean  that  you  shall  have  employment. 
Then,  if  you  choose,  you  can  pay  me." 

The  Count  was  leaning  his  head  on  a  chair,  crying.  He 
could  bear  up  with  the  thermometer  at  twenty  degrees  below 
zero,  but  the  kindness  of  a  heart  that  beat  at  ninety  in  the 
shade  melted  him.  He  was  like  a  child.  "  Don't  laugh  at 
me,  Count,"  continued  Marion,  who  delicately  wished  to  spare 
the  Count's  feelings,  "  but  I  have  done  you  the  most  gross  in- 
justice ;  and  I  beg  your  pardon  a  million  of  times." 

"  You,  Mr.  Monck  ?     Why,  in  what  manner  ?" 

"  Tell  me,  Count,  you  really  wore  those  white  pants  this 
cold  January  night  because  you  had  no  other  ?'' 

"  Certainly  :  but  they  were  respectable,  and  no  one  would 
notice  them  at  a  party." 

"  Why,  Count,  I  think  a  hundred  thousand  times  more  of 
you  than  I  did  before  I  knew  all  this.  I  did  you  gross  injus- 
tice about  those  pants.  I  never  for  a  moment  dreamed  of  the 
real  state  of  the  case.  I  supposed  you  were  a  stuck-up  for- 
eigner, that  wanted  to  come  some  new  dodge  over  us  unsophis- 
ticated Yankees,  and  out-do  us  ;  and  that  you  had  put  on  those 
white  pants  to  astonish  tin  crowd.  You  did  astonish  me. 
Some  day,  Count,  you  will  tell  me  how  all  this  has  come  about. 
Not  to-night.  Now  let's  to  bed,  and  get  a  good  though  short 
night's  sleep,  for  it  is  after  throe  o'clock." 

Both  slept  better  than  usual — the  one  with  the  sweet  con- 
sciousness that  he  had  performed  a  good  action  ;  the  other, 
that  he  had  found  a  true  friend  and  some  comfort  in  his  dreary 
walk.  What  passed  in  the  morning  in  that  room  must  be  left 
to  another  chapter. 


CHAPTER    XY.      . 

The  Count  gets  a  Place. 

THE  sun  was  pouring  his  most  brilliant  beams  into  the  room 
of  Marion  Monck  when  he  awoke  the  morning  after  the  supper 
at  the  City  Hotel.  He  heard  breathing  near  him,  and  as  he 
turned  his  eyes  to  the  spot  from  whence  the  curious  noise  pro- 
ceeded, he  saw  the  pale  face  of  the  Count.  He  was  buried  in 
deep  sleep.  Marion  then  recalled  all  the  circumstances  of  the 
past  night.  He  immediately  arose,  dressed  himself  without 


VIGOR.  t       73 

making  any  noise,  and  descended  to  the  breakfast  room. 
There  he  found  Mrs.  Nordheim,  who  received  him  very  cor- 
dially, and  then  enquired,  "Who  in  the  world,  Marion,  did  you 
bring  home  with  you  last  night  ?  You  were  out  very  late." 
Marion  took  her  hand  and  commenced  an  apology.  She  inter- 
rupted him.  "  Stop  all  that.  I  do  not  need  any  explanation.  I 
have  the  most  unbounded  confidence  in  you,  Marion,  and  am 
perfectly  satisfied  that  when  you  do  any  thing  out  of  the  usual 
course  of  things,  it  is  capable  of  being  properly  explained." 

"  But  I  must  tell  you  the  whole  story." 

Mrs.  Nordheim  listened  with  the  most  profound  attention 
until  Marion  came  to  the  part  where  he  had  to  tell  of  the 
Count's  real  destitution,  and  then  she  cried  in  sympathy. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  and  to  bear  up  so  bravely,  too  !  We  must 
do  some  thing  for  him.  What  can  be  done  ?" 

"  Leave  it  to  me,  dear  Bessy.  I  have  a  plan  in  my  head, 
but  have  no  time  to  detail  it  to  you  now." 

"  Don't  attempt  it.  Go  up  and  call  the  Count  down  to 
breakfast.  I  have  a  nice  one  all  ready,  and  it  needs  but  an 
extra  plate,  or  he  can  take  Mr.  Nordheim's  place.  He  did  not 
come  home  last  night,  and  I  suppose  he  will  breakfast  down 
town  to-day,  or  in — Broome  street  Never  mind." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  Count  was  seated  at  the  breakfast- 
table.  He  was  a  fine-looking  follow,  about  -Marion's  size,  and 
the  clothes  he  had  received  made  him  look  much  better  than 
he  did  the  night  previous  in  the  white  pants.  His  moustache 
and  imperial  were  properly,  arranged,  his  hair  carefully 
combed,  and  he  was  altogether  a  different  person.  His  con- 
versation was  amusing,  and  Bessy  Nordheim  was  much 
pleased  with  him.  Breakfast  was  over. 

"  Now,  Count,  I  expect  you  to  go  down  with  me,  and  as  I  am 
late,  I  must  hurry  you.''  Marion  sent  the  girl  up  for  his  cloak 
as  well  as  overcoat,  and  after  the  Count  had  flung  the  cloak 
over  his  person,  they  left  for  Broad  street. 

Mr.  Nordheim  was  already  at  the  store,  and  alone  in  his 
private  office.  Marion  entered,  passed  the  usual  compliments 
of  the  day,  and,  after  closing  the  door,  asked  Mr.  Nordheim  if 
he  could  have  a  few  moments'  private  conversation  with  him. 

"  Unquestionably,  Marion.  Is  there  any  thing  the  matter  at 
the  house  ?''  said  he,  somewhat  startled. 

"  Nothing,  except  'that  I  took  a  guest  there  last  night,  en- 
tirely unauthorized." 

"  Is  that  all  T'  and  Mr.  Nordheim  looked  listlessly  out  of  the 
window.  Marion  continued,  and  did  not  stop  until  he  had 

4 


74  VIGOR. 

given  in  detail  all  that  couid  operate  favorably  for  the  Count, 
adding,  "  You  know,  sir,  Miss  Clara  has  been  very  anxious  for 
a  person  to  teach  her  languages.  I  think  this  is  the  very  man, 
if  it  meets  your  approval." 

Mr.  Nordheim  was  wide  awake.      "  You  have    said   nothing 
to  the  person  about  Miss  Norris  ?" 
'  Not  a  word." 
'  Nor  to  her  about  the  Count  ?" 

'  How  could  1  ?     I  have  not  seen  her." 

1  True,  true.     Where  is  the  person  ?" 

'  Seated  in  the  front  office." 

'  Stay  where  you  are.     I  will  go  and  have  a  look  at  him." 

Marion  remained.  Mr.  Nordheim  was  absent  but  an  instant, 
and  then  he  returned  and  resumed  his  seat,  and  reflected  a 
moment. 

11  What  do  you  propose  to  do  in  the  matter,  Marion  ?  He 
seems  a  very  nice  person.  Is  he  capable,  think  you1?" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  about  that,  and  I  think  that  he  is  in  such 
need  that  he  will  be  very  faithful  to  you,  sir,  if  you  pay  him 
pretty  liberally  for  his  services." 

"  Indeed.  You  may  be  right.  Suppose  you  engage  him, 
then.  Hire  him  for  the  office." 

"  For  the  office  ?"  repeated  Marion,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Engage  his  services  at  fifty  dollars  a  month,  to 
copy,  translate,  or  do  any  work  required  about  the  counting- 
room,  and  make  one  of  the  conditions  that  he  shall  teach  Miss 
Norris  any  language  that  she  wishes  to  learn.  I  suppose  he 
can  support  himself  very  well  on  six  hundred  dollars  a  3rcar, 
and  I  will  have  it  charged  to  my  private  account.  I  will 
speak  to  Mr.  Granville  about  the  matter,  and  you  can  tell  Mr. 
Wilson  to  give  him  a  desk  and  find  something  for  him  to  do. 
Draw  a  check  for  fifty  dollars,  and  give  him  in  advance,  and 
take  his  receipt.  When  this  is  done,  you  had  better  take  him 
up  to  Miss  Norris.  No.  Go  up  yourself,  and  see  what  she 
thinks  of  it,  and  if  she  agrees,  the  Count  can  go  to  give  her 
the  first  lesson  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Nordheim  was  a  prudent  man  ;  if  he  paid  for  teaching^ 
he  meant  to  make  the  most  of  the  teacher. 

"  When  you  get  things  fixed,  Marion,  you  can  let  me  know." 

What  the  junior  partner  said  to  the  senior,  rests  with  them. 
Marion  informed  Mr.  Wilson  that  the  Count  Falscchinskj  was 
to  be  a  clerk  from  that  date,  and  then  introduced  them  to  each 
other,  first  telling  Mr.  Wilson  all  about  the  Count,  and  after 
he  had  asked  the  Count  if  six  hundred  dollars  a  year  would 


VIGOR.  75 

keep  bim  afloat,  the  Count  could  not  contain  his  joy.  He  wa8 
almost  annoying  in  his  expressions  of  gratitude.  "  Keep  calm, 
Count,  and  wait  here  until  I  return." 

Marion  went  at  once  to  the  residence  of  Miss  Norris,  in- 
formed her  of  his  success,  and  told  her  that  now  she  could 
learn  ten  languages,  if  it  pleased  her  to  do  so.  He  informed 
her  of  all  that  had  passed.  "  Poor  fellow.  I  know  I  shall 
like  him,  and  you  may  tell  Mr.  Nordheim  that  I  thank  him 
very  much.  When  will  he  come  up  ?" 

"  To-morrow." 

"  Oh,  no.     Send  him  up  this  afternoon." 

Marion  returned  to  the  office,  where  he  found  the  Count  al- 
ready at  work  translating  some  invoices. 

"  Count,  I  have  some  other  work  for  you  to  do.  The  junior 
partner,  Mr.  Nordheim,  has  a  relative  that  he  wishes  to  be 
taught  French  and  other  languages,  if  she  wishes  it.  You  will 
go  there  this  afternoon.  I  will  give  you  a  note,  and  you  can. 
commence  your  instructions  immediately." 

"  I  like  that  very  much,  indeed." 

"  You  will  devote  all  the  time  necessary  to  the  young  lady, 
and  purchase  such  books  as  she  may  need.  You  will  get  the 
money  from  me.  Here  is  a  receipt  for  you  to  sign  for  your 
first  month's  wages,  and  here  is  fifty  dollars  ;  and  I  also  re- 
commend you  to  get  a  boarding-house  without  any  delay." 

The  Count  promised  to  do  any  and  every  thing.  Marion 
gave  him  a  letter  to  the  lady  at  No.  591  Broome  street,  and  he 
delivered  it  that  day,  and  then  returned  to  the  office.  Mr. 
Wilson  did  not  like  the  new  arrangement.  He  was  intensely 
English,  and  hated  foreigners,  particularly  if  they  had  mous- 
taches. 

"  I  will  make  that  fellow  do  more  work  than  he  ever  did  be- 
fore, but  I  am  sorry  he  is  coming  into  the  office.  I  don't  mind 
his  teaching  the  young  woman,  although  that  is  very  bad,  in  a 
financial  point  of  view." 

The  Count  selected  a  boarding-place  in  John  street  before 
night,  and  gave  Marion  a  very  pressing  invitation  to  come  and 
see  him.  The  latter  promised  to  do  so  the  very  first  oppor- 
tunity. 

"  Mr.  Monck,  I  have  no  words  that  can  express  my  gratitude 
to  you.  Last  night  I  was  almost  in  despair.  I  meditated 
suicide.  I  met  you — I  found  rest — clothes — food — nn  '  income 
and  a  home,  and  a  bright  prospect  of  independence.  What 
can  I  do  for  you  ?  What  can  I  say  1" 

"  Say  nothing  at  all,  Count.      Go  to  work  with  a  good  will 


76  VIGOR. 

Teach  that  young  lady  all  that  you  know  in  languages.  Be 
faithful  in  that  quarter,  for  your  income  of  six  hundred  dollars 
is  more  for  what  is  expected  of  you  there,  than  for  office 
work." 

"  I  know  that  already,  Mr.  Monck,  and  rest  assured  I  will 
teach  as  no  teacher  ever  taught  pupil  before,  and  I  will  do  all 
that  can  be  found  for  me  to  do  at  the  office.  God  bless  you, 
I  say  again  and  again." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Tom  G:'inville's  Extravagance — Washington  Hall,  aj.d  an  cv  ni  y 
at  a  Faro  Bank. 

AGREEABLY  to  the  engagement  made  between  old  Mrs.  Chase 
and  Mr,  Pitt  Granville,  Thomas  became  a  partner  of  the  firm 
a  month  after  ins  marriage.  Mr.  Nordlieim  agreed  to  it,  on 
one  condition,  that  his  share  of  the  profits  was  to  continue  the 
same,  viz  :  one  half.  It  was  a  generous  act  on  Mr.  Granville's 
part,  to  relinquish  his  own  half  share  or  any  portion  of  it  to 
his  brother,  but  he  did  so — to  what  extent  was  only  known  to 
the  brothers.  The  style  of  the  firm  remained  unchanged. 
We  have  already  stated  that  Mr.  Granville  had  rented  a  house 
and  furnished  it  previous  to  the  marriage  of  his  brother.  To 
this  house,  which  was  located  in  Chambers  street,  the  new 
married  couple  removed  on  their  return  from  Baltimore.  The 
house  was  crowded  with  visitors,  for  Tom  invited  every  body 
that  he  had  ever  known,  to  come  and  see  him,  and  he  gave  a 
dinner  party  every  day  of  the  week,  and  before  March  had 
given  two  large  parties  at  night,  and  the  doings  got  into  the 
newspapers.  Mrs.  Thomas  Granville  became  the  talk  of  the 
town.  Tom  himself  attended  to  business  for  about  a  month, 
and  then  he  neglected  to  come  to  the  office  until  one  or  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  His  brother  remonstrated,  and 
plainly  told  him  that  such  neglect  would  be  ruinous  ;  and  Tom, 
to  show  how  he  appreciated  such  brotherly  advice,  did  not 
come  down  at  all,  except  it  was  to  draw  money.  Luckily  for 
the  house  of  Granville  &  Nordheim,  the  partnership,  so  far  as 
Tom  was  concerned,  was  a  matter  between  him  and  his 
brother.  No  notice  was  publicly  made,  nor  was  it  intended  to 
be  until  the  grandmother  of  Mr.  Tom  Granville  paid  the 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  The  way  that  Tom  was  going 
on — spending  money  at  the  rate  of  ten  thousand  dollars  a 


VIGOR.  77 

year — made  it  pretty  certain  that  the  old  lady  would  back  out 
of  her  promise,  for  it  was  not  probable  that  Tom's  extrava- 
gance could  long  be  kept  from  her.  Still  the  Senior  Gran- 
ville determined  to  keep  his  brother  within  bounds,  and 
agreed  to  allow  him  at  the  rate  of  two  hundred  dollars  a 
month,  and  no  more.  January  and  February  passed,  and  Tom 
rather  increased  than  diminished  his  expenses,  for  he  told 
Mr.  Granville  on  the  first  of  March,  only  two  months  after  his 
marriage,  that  he  required*  a  thousand  dollars  to  pay  off  what 
he  already  owed,  and  that  if  \V.  Pitt  Granville  would  let 
him  have  that  amount,  he  would  solemnly  promise  after  that 
to  live  within  two  hundred  dollars  a  mouth.  Poor  Tom.  The 
Elder  Granviile  gave  him  the  one  thousand  dollars,  but  Tom 
was  incurable.  He  flung  away  the  money  by  the  handful,  and 
did  not  use  the  one  thousand  dollars  to  pay  old  claims,  but 
spent  it  in  new  extravagancies. 

About  a  month  after  the  one  thousand  dollars  liad  been  ad- 
vanced by  one  brother,  and  sqandered  by  -the  oilier,  Tom 
called  at  the  counting  room  to  make  a  fresh  demand.  '  It  was 
evening.  The  next  was  packet  day,  and  this  was  called  packet 
night.  In  these  days  of  steamers,  the  word  may  not  be  under- 
stood by  the  reader.  In  the  days  of  sailing  packets,  nearly  all 
the  foreign  merchants  kept  their  offices  open  the  night  before 
a  packet  sailed  for  Liverpool,  London  or  Havre,  those  be- 
ing the  ports  to  which  regular  foreign  packet  lines  were 
established.  When  Thomas  •  Granville  reached  the  of- 
fice, he  found  his  brother  had  left,  and  was  not  expected 
to  return.  Mr.  Nordheim  was  in  the  private  offipe, 
and  as  soon  as  he  became  aware  that  young  Granville  was 
there,  he  came  out,  and  invited  him  to  go  in  the  private  room. 
Tom  accepted.  When  they  were  alone,  Mr.  XordHeim  kindly 
inquired  after  his  handsome  lady,  adding — 

"  I  think  you  are  a  very  lucky  man,  Mr.  Granville,  in  secur- 
ing as  a  life  partner  so  charming  a  person." 

Turn  said  he  was  satisfied  with  his  choice. 

"  I  understand,  Mr.  Granville,  that  my  partner  has  given 
you  an  interest  in  his  partnership,  and  I  was  given  to  undei- 
stand  that  you  would  take  an  active  part  in  the  management 
of  our  business." 

Tom  replied  : 

"  I  believe  something  of  the  kind  was  talked  about,  but,  I 
don't  like  business.  I  think  it  a  most  infernal  bore.  .  My 
brother  thinks  I  ought  to  be  down  here  at  ten  o'clock,  but  I 
find  it  utterly  out  of  the  question.  I  never  get  up  until 


78 '  .  '  VIGOR. 

twelve,  and  it  talces  an  hour  before  I  get  my  breakfast  down, 
consequently  it  is  after  two  o'clock  before  I  could  possibly 
get  to  the  office.  My  brother  found  fault,  and  I  gave  up  com- 
ing at  all." 

"  You  do  not  appear  to  be  as  fond  of  commercial  business  as 
my  partner.  He  is  always  at,  his  post  before  nine  o'clock." 

"  He  is,  excuse  me,  a  great  fool  for  his  pains.  No,  I  don't 
think  business  agrees  with  me,  and.  I  shall  cut  it." 

"  You  married  a  lady  of  some  wealth,  I  believe." 

"  Not  a  red  cent,  as  yet.  She  has  an  old  witch  of  a  grand- 
mother who  is  as  rich  as  black  mud.  She  is  ninety-five,  and 
ought  to  have  died  long  ago,  but  really  she  is  so  dried  up  and 
withered,  that  I  think  she  may  outlive  me.  When  she  dies, 
if  the  old  fool  will  ever  oblige  her  grandchildren  so  much  as 
to  die,  she  will  cut  up  well,  and  my  wife  will  get  her  slice." 

"  Meanwhile,  Mr.  Granville,  how  are  you  to  live  ?  I  sup- 
pose my  worthy  partner  allows  you  a  pretty  liberal  sum, 
eh  ?" 

"  So,  so,  but  I  am  spending  more,  much  more  than  my  allow- 
ance of  two  thousand  four  hundred  dollars,  and  I  came  here 
to-night  on  a  beg — disagreeable,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Very,  Mr.  Granville.  People  say  you  are  one  of  the  most 
fascinating  dogs  alive.  Is  that  so  ?"  t 

"  I  am  overrated,  I  fear.  I  never  tried  to  be  very  fascinat- 
ing." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Granville,  if  you  were  so  disposed,  you  could 
do  me  a  great  favor.  I  want  to  get  rid  of  a  woman,  and  if 
you  would  exert  your  fascinations  in  my  favor,  with  a  very 
beautiful  creature,  and  take  her  off  my  hands — get  me  clear 
of  her,  I  will  not  only  be  very  grateful,  bnt  I  will,  as  my 
worthy  man  Wilson  says,  make  it  an  object  to  you  in  a  financial 
point  of  view." 

"  Nothing  will  give  me  greater  pleasure.  Your  wife,  I  sup- 
pose ?" 

"  D —  it,  no,  man,  not  so  bad  as  that  comes  to.  No.  It  is 
a  very  beautiful,  but  terrifically  expensive  mistress  that  I 
have.  In  a  word,  I  am  tired  of  her.  I  want  to  get  her  off  my 
hands,  and  yet  I  will  not  cut  the  connexion  myself,  but  if  you 
can  gain  her  affection — get  her  to  leave  me,  and  run  off  with 
you  in  such  a  way  that  she  can  have  no  possible  claim  upon 
me,  I  will  give  you,  as  soon  as  the  work  is  finished,  two  thou- 
sand dollars.  More  than  that.  If  you  consent  to  do  what  I 
require,  I  will  give  you  to-night  five  hundred  dollars  to  com- 
mence the  war  with." 


VIGOR.  70 

"  I  will  do  it,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Thomas  Granville." 

"  You  will  have  hard  work.  She  has  an  easy  time  of  it 
and  every  comfort  and  luxury,  and — and — I  think  she  really 
loves  me  ;"  and  Mr.  Nordheini  stroked  his  whiskers  with  great 
satisfaction. 

"  How  am  I  to  get  acquainted  with  her  ladyship?" 

"  She  has  a  Count  Falsechinski,  who  is  a  clerk  in  this  office, 
and  who  is 'also  employed  in  teaching  her  French.  You  must 
get  him  to  take  you  there,  or  Marion  Monck.  Do  it  any  way 
you  can,  except  through  me.  She  is  very  honorable.  Were 
I  to  introduce  you,  and  you  were  to  make  love  demonstrations, 
she  would  feel  called  upon  to  inform  me.  That  will  not  do. 
Is  it  a  bargain  1  Will  you  undertake  it  1" 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure  ;  bat  I  must  have  some  money 
immediately.  I  shall  succeed.  Have  no  fear  of  that.  Three 
months  from  this  I  will  claim  the  other  fifteen  hundred  dol- 
lars— perhaps  sooner." 

"  I  have  not  five  hundred  dollars  with  me  ;  but  I  will  draw 
a  check  for  the  amount,  and  go  with  you  to  the  City  Hotel,  and 
Jennings  will  cash  it  to-night.  He  has  frequently  accommo- 
dated me  in  that  manner  after  bank  hours. 

The  check  was  drawn  and  signed,  and  then  these  two  con- 
spirators left  the  office  in  company  for  the  City  Hotel.  Jen- 
nings cashed  the  check.  "  I  am  walking  up  Broadway,  and 
will  keep"  you  company,  Granville,  if  you  have  no  objection." 
Tom  agreed,  and  on  they  passed  until  they  came  to  Chambers 
street,  when  Tom  invited  his  companion  to  go  home  with  him. 
This  was  what  Mr.  Nordheim  anxiously  desired,  and  they 
walked  down  Chambers  street  to  Tom's  residence.  When  they 
entered  the  parlor  Mrs.  Granville  was  alone.  She  bowed  to 
Mr.  Nordheim,  and  then,  in  a  very  anxious  manner,  asked, 
"Well,  did  you  see  your  brother  ?  and  with  what  success?" 

Tom  placed  a  roll  in  her  hand,  and  replied,  "  No,  Pitt  was 
out,  but  Mr.  Nordheim  advanced  me  what  I  needed,  and  jou 
can  thank  him  for  relieving  our  pressing  necessities." 

Kate  Granville  was  somewhat  surprised,  and  she  thanked 
Mr.  Nordheim,  although  somewhat  coldly,  for  she  had  met 
him  on  several  occasions,  and  there  was  something  in  his 
manner  that  did  not  please  a  virtuous  wife.*  She  was  afraid 
of  him,  and  almost  wished  that  Tom  could  have  procured  the 
money  somewhere  else.  But  the  money  must  be  had,  and  she 
took  it  and  used  it. 

Tom  made  no  stay  at  home.  Other  guests  came  in,  and  he 
left,  apologizing  to  Mr.  Nordheim,  and  saying  he  would  return 


80  VIGOR. 

soon.  He  called  Kate  out  into  the  hall.  As  soon  as  they  were 
alone,  she  said, 

"  No,  no,  Tom.  I  know  what  you  want,  hut  I  need  every 
cent  to  pay  what  we  must  pay,  or  be  turned  out  of  house  and 
home,  arid  be  disgraced." 

"  Only  a  hundred,  Kate.  I  must  have  it.  Why,  woman,  it 
is  mine.  I  earned  it — yes,  earned  it, 

."  Tom,  you  will  lose  it  at  gambling.  1  know  you  will  ;  you 
have  no  luck,  and — but  here,  take  it  and  go  ;  I  must  get  back 
into  the  parlor." 

Tom  got  into  the  street,  and  with  a  hundred  dollars  in  his 
pocket.  He  turned  around  into  Warren  street,  and  into  No.  9. 

"  Blinn,  give  me  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water.  Has  the 
Count  Falsechinski  been  here  yet  ?" 

"  No,  Monsieur  Granville.  The  Count  has  not  been  here 
yet." 

While  Tom  was  sipping  his  brandy  the  Count  entered  :  "  Ah, 
Count,  I  am  glad  to  meet  you.  What  in  the  name  of  Lucifer 
has  come  over  you  ?  Have  you  discovered  a  gold  mine,  a  new 
tailor,  or  what  is  out  ?"  asked  Tom  Granville. 

The  Count  smiled,  and' took  a  seat.  In  a  moment,  an  idea 
seemed  to  flash  across  Tom's  mind,  for  he  asked,  "  Have  you 
got  employment  to  teach  French  to  a  young  lady-— a  Miss  Clara 
Norris^eh  ?" 

"  And  suppose  I  have,  Mr.  Tom  Granville,  have  you  any 
objection  to  my  making  an  honest  living  !" 

"  None  in  the  world,  Count,  for  I  like  you  very  much.  I 
knew  that  this  coffee-house  is  one  of  your  haunts,  and  that 
you  came  here  every  evening.  I  had  heard  of  a  Count  being 
employed  in  my  brother's  office  and  that  he  taught  French  to 
a  very  dear  friend  of  my  brother's  partner,  Mr  Nordheim,  but 
I  did  not  know  that  you  were  that  Count.  You  remember 
your  promise  some  weeks  ago  ?' 

"  Name  it,  Mr.  Granville." 

"  You  promised  that  for  a  small  sum  you  would  teach  me 
how  to  play  with  the  chances  in  my  favor  against  a  Faro 
Bank." 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Granville — with  the  chances  not  in 
your  favor.  Teft  weeks  ago,  when  I  made  that  promise,  I  was 
very  poor.  I  needed  money,  and  I  was  aware  that  you  were 
losing  money  every  night  at  a  Faro  Bank.  I  could  have  saved 
you  from  losing,  but  you  did  not  avail  yourself  of  my  offer.  I  am 
in  different  circumstances  to-night,  and  I  might  decline  your 
offer,  but  I  will  not.  But  I  must  do  one  thing.  I  assist  you 


VIGOR.  81 

to-night.  I  will  dictate  my  terms.  First  answer  me  this 
question  :  how  much  money  have  you  in  your  pocket  to  lose 
to-night?  Precisely,  tell  meV 

"  That  is  a  queer  question,  Count.  But  I  will  answer  it. 
One  hundred  dollars  :  no  more,  or  no  less." 

"  Now  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  Give  rae 
that  money  in  my  own  hand.  You  can  come  with  me 
to  Washington  Hall — to  the  Faro  Bank  room.  I  will  play  for 
you,  with  your  money.  If  I  lose  it,  you  -are  not  to  say  a  word. 
If  I  win,  you  will  follow  me  out,  and  I  will  pay  you  one-half  of 
the  winnings." 

"  But,  Count,  that  is  rather  severe.  I  put  up  the  money, 
lose  it,  if  it  is  lost,  and  if  it  wins  only  get  one-half.  Oh,  no." 

"  Very  well.  Then  I  will  not  play  for  you.  I  put  up  my 
experiences  against  you  with  your  money.  It  is  worth  more 
than  your  money  if  I  win,  as  you  know.  Say  no  more.  Those 
are  my  terms." 

"  There,  Count,  try  it.  Here,  take  the  hundred  dollars  ;  but 
I  will  go  with  you,  and  if  I  say  stop,  or" — 

"  If  you  say  one  word  to  me.  I  will  knock  you  down." 

"  Why,  Count,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?" 

"  Nothing  at  all.  Remember,  not  a  word  to  me,  for  I  will 
not  only  strike  you,  but  I  will  deny  that  I  have  received  a 
cent  from  you  and  call  you  a  liar  ;  and,  Mr.  Tom  Granville, 
the  word  of  the  Count  Adolph  Falsecliinski  with  money  in 
his  pocket,  will  outweigh  the  oaths  of  Mr.  Tom  Granville, 
penniless  as  you  are  now.  Trust  me  as  a  gentleman,  and  half 
the  winnings  are  yours.  If  wo  miss  each  other  when  we  leave 
the  gambling  table,  I  will  come  directly  here.  Do  you  fol- 
low." 

The  Count  had  the  hundred  dollars,  and  the  conditions 
were  arranged.  Then  the  Count  ordered  a  strong  cup  of 
coffee,  and  the  pair  left  the  French  coffee-house  for  Washing- 
ton Hall,  then  the  headquarters  of  fashionable  young  New 
York  John  Mariner  kept  it  then.  It  has  long  ago  been  torn 
down  and  its  site  occupied  by  Stewart's  great  dry-goods  store. 
The  Count  and  Tom  went  into  the  bar-room.  Several  of  their 
acquaintances  were  there,  and  they  all  took  a  drink  at  the 
Count's  expense.  As  Tom  Granville  kept  near  the  Count,  the 
latter  whispered,  "  Don't  come  near  me,  or  speak  to  me  again, 
until  we  meet  at  the  French  coffee-house.  Don't  go  to  the 
Faro  table  with  me.  Keep  by  youself.5' 

The  Count  shortly  afterward  separated  from  the  party  who 
had  drank  at  his  expense,  and  quietly  slipped  into  the  great 


82  VIGOR. 

hall,  and  then  passed  to  the  third  floor,  and  on  the  right  hand 
side,  knocked  at  a  green  baize  door.  A  question  was  asked  by 
some  one  inside.  The  Count  replied,  and  his  answer  appeared 
tp  be  satisfactory,  for  the  door  was  opened  just  sufficiently 
wide  to  admit  him.  When  he  had  entered,  the  door  was  closed 
and  fastened.  There  were  two  large  rooms,  separated  only  by 
large  folding  doors.  In  one  of  the  rooms  were  several  tables, 
and  surrounding  them  were  parties  of  two  or  more  engaged  in 
card-playing.  In  the  other  room  was  a  long  table.  To  this 
the  Count  approached.  Twenty  more  persons  were  seated 
about  it.  One  man,  to  whom  the  Count  bowed,  was  dealing 
from  a  small  silver  box.  On  the  table  before  the  dealer,  cov- 
ering nearly  the  whole  table,  was  a  suit  of  cards,  commencing 
with  the  ace  and  ending  with  the  king.  By  the  side  of  the 
dealer  was  a  man  who  acted  as  banker  or  treasurer.  He  had 
a  box  filled  with  piles  of  white,  red  and  purple  chips.  Each 
white  chip  was  worth  one  dollar.  The  reds  were  fives,  and 
the  purples  twenty  dollars  each.  Another  person  sat  close  by 
the  cashier,  with  a  little  box  filled  with  white  and  black  checks 
on  wires.  As  a  card  was  dealt,  he  moved  a  corresponding 
check  in  the  little  box.  This  was  the  man  who  kept  the  game. 
The  play  was  running  high,  piles  of  red  chips  were  upon  the 
cards,  and  the  luck  seemed  to  favor  the  bank,  for  the  dealer 
raked  pile  after  pile  of  the  red  chips  towards  him,  and  then 
deliberately  restacked  them  in  the  mahogany  box.  Presently 
Mr.  Granville  entered.  The  Couijt  was  still  standing  up.  He 
did  not  notice  him.  The  play  went  on.  One — and  then  ano- 
ther, left  the  room — had  lost  all.  Their  faces  were  haggard 
and  despairing.  The  Count  smiled.  He  was  not  ready  to 
play  yet.  He  was  noticing  one  man,  behind  whose  seat  he 
stood.  He  seemed  scarcely  conscious  of  any  thing.  He  placed 
a  pile  of  red  chips  upon  the  ace  ;  the  cards  were  dealt.  He 
had  lost.  He  rose  from  his  seat,  and  with  horrid  curses  and 
imprecations  upon  himself,  cards,  and  every  thing  else,  left 
the  room.  The  Count  took  the  seat  left  vacant  by  this  person, 
who  had  lost  fifteen  hundred  dollars  in  half  an  hour. 

"  Hand  me  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  red  chips,  if  you 
please,"  said  the  Count — and  as  they  were  delivered  to  him  he 
deliberately  counted  twenty,  and  piled  them  up  before  him.  A 
new  deal  commenced.  The  Count  placed  a  red  chip  on  the  ace 
— another  on  the  seven-spot.  It  was  some  time  before  either 
turned  up.  He  was  a  winner.  Meanwhile  the  Count  had 
watched  other  cards  ;  the  king  had  been  dealt  out  three  times 
and  the  deuce-spot  twice.  He  placed  ten  red  chips  on  the 


VIGOR.  83 

king  and  five  on  the  deuce.  The  king  won.  He  had  doubled 
ten  red  chips.  The  deuce  won.  The  Count  then  placed  twen- 
ty red  chips  upon  the  last  deuce  ;  it  was  a  bet,  and  won.  He 
looked  at  the  game  board — there  was  but.  one  five  spot  in.  All 
the  rest  had  won  for  the  bank.  The  Count  placed  fifty  red 
chips  upon  it,  and  won.  That  deal  was  over,  and  the  Count 
piled  up  his  winnings,  but  was  perfectly  cool.  There  was  no 
limit  to  the  betting  allowed  at  that  faro  bank.  If  it  bet  fifty 
thousand  dollars,  it  would  be  good.  ' 

Another  deal  began.  The  Count  scattered  one  or  two  chips 
on  different  cards — and  they  won  and  lost,  until  he  noticed  that 
but  two  aces — one  seven  and  one  ten — were  left  in  the  dealer's 
box.  He  put  down  five  piles  each  of  twenty  red  chips  on  the 
ace,  and  won.  He  was  paid  in  purple  chips.  He  left  all  the 
purple  chips  on  the  ace  again,  and  it  won.  There  was  but  one 
turn  more,  and  the  Count  placed  five  hundred  dollars  on  it.  It 
won.  Another  deal  followed,  and  the  Count  played  heavier 
yet.  When  there  was  but  one  ace  left  in  the  box,  he  placed 
fifteen  hundred  dollars  upon  it. 

"  That  is  my  la^t  play  to-night,"  said  the  Count  sternly. 

The  cards  were  dealt. 

"  He  has  won,"  said  Samuel — and  so  he  had. 

"  Pay  me,"  said  the  Count,  and  he  received  from  the  smil- 
ing banker  four  thousand  two  hundred  dollars,  and  it  was  paid 
as  pleasantly  as  though  he  would  not  have  cared  if  it  had  been 
four  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  dollars. 

The  Count  placed  the  money  about  his  person,  waited  a  few 
moments,  looked  at  >hose  who  continued  to  play,  and  then  left 
the  room  and  descended  to  the  bar-room.  Several  gentlemen 
who  were  broke  followed  him,  and  begged  a  small  loan. 

"  No,  it  is  not  my  money,"  said  the  Count. 

In  the  bar-room  he  asked  several  up  to  drink.  Then  Gran- 
ville  came  up,  expecting  of  course  to  be  invited. 

'"  If  you  drink,  let  it  be  at  your  own  expense,  Mr.  Gran- 
ville,"  quietly  observed  the  Count. 

Tom  took  the  hint  and  sheered  off.  After  the  drinks  had 
been  settled  for,  the  Count  walked  slowly  to  the  French  cof- 
fee house  in  Warren  street.  As  he  entered,  he  saw  Tom 
Granville  with  a  glass  of  brandy  before  him.  The  Count  took 
a  seat  opposite  to  him. 

"  You  are  lucky  to-night,  Count,"  remarked  Tom  Gran- 
ville. 

"  I  played  my  own  game,  sir,"  replied  the  Count. 

"  You  must  have  won  a  couple  of  thousand  dollars.^' 


84  VIGOR. 

Tom  had  got  so  eseited  before  the  last  deal  that  he  had  de- 
scended to  the  b;)r-roorn  to  get  cool,  and  was  not  present  when 
the  Count  placed  fifteen  hundred  dollars  on  on«  card. 

The  Count  placed  roll  after  roll  of  money  on  ihe  table. 

"  Hands  off!"  he  exclaimed,  as  Tom  put  out  a  hand  to  clutch 
some. 

The  Count  then  counted  it,  for  there  were  three  bills  of 
one  thousand  dollars  each. 

"  Four  thousand  two  hundred,"  said  the  Count. 

Tom  Granville  ordered  another  glass  of  brandy. 

"  Four  thousand  two  hundred,''  repeated  the  Count — "  and 
your  share  is  twenty -one  hundred  dollars,"  and  he  handed  him 
the  precise  amount. 

"  Waiter,  bring  me  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  cigar."  He  lit  the 
latter,  and  turning  his  face  to  Tom,  quietly  asked,  "  What  was 
your  meaning  to-night,  when  you  asked  if  I  was  the  Count  who 
was  teaching  French  to  Miss  Norris  ?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  in  particular.  Count,  how  can  I  express  my 
gratitude  for  this  sum  of  money  ?" 

"  By  saying  no  more  about  it.  It  is  but  a  trifle,  Tom 
Granville." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  now  play  on  your  own  hook  and  win 
a  good  deal  more." 

"  You  never  was  more  mistaken  in  your  life.  I  never  play 
at  faro  when  I  have  plenty  of  money.  [  only  play  with  my 
last  dollar,  or  when  I  have  other  people's  money  to  lose  or  win 
with.  What  do  you  want  to  know  about  Miss  Norris  ?" 

"  I  hear  she  is  very  pretty.  I  shoulol.Jike  amazingly  to  get 
acquainted  with  her." 

The  Count  laid  down  his  cigar,  and  gazed  into  the  face  of 
Tom  for  a  minute  ere  he  replied, 

"  I  will  take  you  there." 

"  When  ?"  asked  Tom. 

<;  Now — to-night.  It  is  not  late,  and  as  you  are  a  good  mu- 
sician, we  will  have  music,  and  a  gay  time  of  it." 

At  twelve  that  night,  if  Mr.  Nordheim  had  called  upon  Miss 
Norris,  he  would  have  had  the  pleasure  of  listening  to  a  deli- 
cious concert.  Clara  played  the  piano,  the  Count  accompanied 
her  with  the  guitar,  and  Tom  Granville,  who  would  have  made 
money  as  a  tenor  singer  in  opera,  sang  some  of  the  sweetest 
songs  in  the  English  language  ;  and  in  some  few  both  the  Count 
and  Clara  joined. 

The  Count,  from  some  hidden  motive,  told  a  little  anecdote, 
how  Toin  had  lent  him  one  hundred  dollars,  and  how  he  had 


VIGOR.  85 

employed  it  ;  nnd  added,  "  My  share  was  twenty-one  hundred 
dollars,  and  Mr.  Grauville  has  an  equal  amount  in  his  pocket. 
I  think,  Miss  Clara,  you  ought  to  teach  him  how  to  spe;id  it." 
What  was  the  object  of  the  Count  ? 

Miss  Norris  regarded  Tom  as  "a  flat,  and  she  determined  to 
take  the  Count's  advico.  She  led  Tom  on  s>o  far  as  to  promise 
that  he  would  take  a  private  box  and  accompany  her  to  the 
Park  Theatre  the  next  evening. 

The  two  gentlemen  left  the  house  together  ;  and  as  they 
came  down  town,  the  Count  told  Tom  that  he  had  evidently 
made  an  impression  upon  Miss  Norris,  and  advised  him  to  fol- 
low it  up.  What  was  the  Count  driving  at  ? 

The  Count  saw  Tom  safe  at  his  own  house,  and  saw  him  en- 
ter ;  then  he  walked  down  to  his  own  rooms  in  John  street, 
and  enjoyed  a  good  night's  repose. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

Primr,   Ward  <J-  King  — Teaching    French — The  Thousand  Dollar    Bill — 
The  Park  Thutre. 

THE  morning  following  the  successful  gambling  operation  of 
the  Count  at  Washington  Hall  was  a  delicious  April  morning. 
Eight  o'clock  found  the  Count  Falsechinski  at  the  counting- 
house  of  his  employers.  Mr.  Wilson  had  already  arrived  and 
opened  the  safe.  The  Count  volunteered  to  assist  him  in' 
transferring  the  massive  ledger  and  journal  and  other  books  of 
a  great  commercial  firm  to  the  long  mahogany  desk  occupied 
by  the  book-keeper.  When  the  work  was  done,  Mr.  Wilson 
thanked  the  Count,  who  asked,  "  What  shall  I  commence  do- 
ing ?"  The  Count  wrote  a  hand  that  was  almost  like  copy 
right.  Wilson  had  become  aware  of  the  fact. 

"  If  you  have  no  particular  objection,  Count,  I  will  get  you 
to  assist  me  in  the  books.  You  can  copy  my  day  entries  into 
the  journal." 

Mr.  Wilson  showed  him  how  it  was  to  be  done,  and  the 
Count  cheerfully  went  to  work.  The  stock  of  the  Count  ad- 
vanced fifty  per  cent,  that  morning  in  Wilson's  mind.  After 
some  little  time  had  elapsed  while  working,  the  Count  asked 
Mr.  Wilson  to  name  to  him  the  most  responsible  private  bank- 
ers in  the  city. 

"  I  have  not  much  to  deposit  with  them,  but  I  have  this 
small  amount  that  I  should  like  to  have  placed  iu  safe  hands, 


86  VIGOR. 

•where  it  would  be  drawing  interest,"  and  the  Count  laid  down 
on  the  desk  two  thousand  dollars.  He  took  out  one  hundred 
dollars.  "  This  1  will  keep.  The  two  thousand  dollars  I  wish 
to  keep  at  the  bankers." 

"  Prime,  Ward  &  Kins,  No.  42  Wall  street,  are  the  firmest 
bankers.  I  would  recommend  them,  but  I  am  not  certain 
that  they  will  take  your  account.  Who  could  you  get  to  go  and 
introduce  you  to  them  ?" 

"  1  know  of  no  one,"  replied  the  Count. 

"  Then,  Count,  1  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  Their  book- 
keeper,  Charles  Christmas,  is  a  particular  friend  of  mine,  and 
I  flatter  myself  that  my  introduction  to  him  will  be  as  good  an 
opening  as  you  could  have.  I  will  vouch  for  you,  Count. 
About  ten  o'clock,  if  you  will  go  with  me  to  that  banking 
house,  I  will  do  the  needful,  and  get  an  account  opened  with 
you  by  that  firm." 

When  Marion  arrived,  he  was  somewhat  surprissd  to  see  the 
Count  and  Mr.  Wilson  on  such  familiar  terms,  and  he  was 
rather  pleased  than  otherwise. 

The  bankers  alluded  to,  Prime,  Ward  &  King,  were  at  that 
time  regarded  by  the  commercial  community  here,  and,  in  fact, 
in  every  city  of  the  Union,  as  the  most  solid  house  on  this  con- 
tinent. Their  bills  of  exchange  on  London  or  Paris  would 
bring  one  per  cent,  higher  £han  any  commercial  firm.  The 
partners  of  this  celebrated  house  were  men  of  originality.  The 
senior  was  old  "  Nat  Prime,"  as  he  was  familiarly  designated. 
He  started  life  in  a 'humble  capacity,  and  rose  to  be  the  head 
of  a  great  banking  house.  His  residence  for  many  years  was 
at  No.  1  Broadway,  now  occupied  as  a  hotel.  "Sam  Ward," 
the  second  partner,  built  a  house  on  the  corner  of  Fourth 
street  and  Broadway,  and  added  to  it  a  gallery  of  paintings, 
that  was  the  wonder  of  the  people  in  that  day.  James  Gore 
King,  the  junior  partner,  was  born  in  England,  where  his  fath- 
er, Kufus  King,  was  Ambassador  from  the  United  States  to 
Great  Britain.  He  was  named  after  James  Gore,  a  celebrated 
merchant.  All  these  partners  died  long  ago.  The  Count  and 
Mr.  Wilson  went  to  the  banking  office  of  this  firm.  Wilson  in- 
troduced the  Count  to  the  book-keeper  with  a  request  that  he 
willingly  complied  with.  In  a  word,  the  Count  was  intro- 
duced to  Mr.  Ward,  one  of  the  partners,  his  account  was  re- 
ceived, and  he  deposited  two  thousand  dollars,  and  wrote  his 
signature  upon  the  signature  book.  He  also  received  a  bank 
book,  on  the  leather  cover  of  which  was  printed  Prime,  Ward 
&  King  in  account  with,  and  written  underneath,  the  Count 


VIGOR.  87 

Adolph  Falsechinski,  and  inside  he  was  credited  April  fourth 
with  two  thousand  dollars,  bearing  interest  at  four  per  cent, 
per  annum.  When  this  was  all  done,  the  Count  took  his 
leave,  but  not  until  he  had  made  a  very  favorable  impression 
upon  Mr.  Ward,  who  begged  to  serve  him  in  any  manner.  The 
Count  was  a  deep  planner,  and  knew  the  world.  In  opening 
an  account  with  Prime,  Ward  &  King,  and  getting  one  of  their 
bank  books  with  the  name  of  Count  Adolph  Falsechinski  upon 
it,  and  a  sum  to  his  credit,  he  had  procured  a  credit,  a  conse- 
quence, an  endorsement,  backers,  position — that  would  be  val- 
uable in  any  part  of  the  Union.  There  was  no  disputing  it. 
It  was  worth  more  than  a  reference,  for  either  of  the  partners 
would  have  said  they  knew  nothing  of  the  Count.  An  author- 
ized banking  book,  with  a  credit-of  cash  in  with  so  respectable 
a  flrm,  told  its  own  story.  It  was  the  best  kind  of  a  reference. 
The  Count  had  his  opinion  of  it.  It  was  near  twelve  o'clock 
when  all  this  was  completed,  and  the  Count,  instead  of  return- 
ing to  the  counting  house,  parted  from  Mr.  Wilson,  and  went 
to  Broome  street  to  give  a  French  lesson  to  Miss  Norris. 

He  found  Tom  Granville  already  there.  Miss  Norris  re- 
ceived the  lesson,  which  occupied  nearly  two  hours.  Tom  re- 
mained quiet  until  it  was  finished,  and  then  insisted  that  Clara 
should  read  French  with  him  an  hour.  Tom  was  a  good  French 
scholar,  for  he  had  in  early  life  resided  two  years  in  France. 

"  By-and-by.  I  will  not  now.  I  want  to  scold  the  Count  for 
not  coming  earlier.  I  waited  for  you  two  hours  this  morning." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,  Miss  Clara.  I  will  be  more  punctual 
in  future,  but  the  fact  is,  I  was  obliged  to  visit  my  bankers, 
Prime,  Ward  &  King,  this  morning," — here  he  displayed  care- 
lessly his  bank  book, — "  and  I  was  detained  talking  with  Mr. 
Ward  longer  than  I  expected." 

Tom  opened  his  eyes,  and  even  Miss  Clara  felt  a  greater  re- 
spect for  her  teacher.  Here  was  more  mystery.  A  count,  and 
a  book  account  with  Prime,  Ward  &  King. 

"  Count,  Mr.  Granville  has  secured  a  private  box  at  the  Park 
Theatre  to-night.  Shall  we  have  the  pleasure  of  your  com- 
pany ?  You  will  be  welcome." 

"  What  is  the  novelty  ?     What  is  to  be  played  1" 

"  The  Opera  of  La  Somnambula.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood  and  Mr. 
Brough,  with  his  magnificent  bass,  all  appear  in  it." 

"  I  shall  accept  your  invitation  with  pleasure.  I  knew  the 
Woods  in  London." 

"  The  deuce  you  did.  Tell  us  all  about  them,  Count.  Is 
Mrs.  Wood  his  wife  ?" 


88  VIGOR. 

"  To  be  sure  she  is,  but  she  was  divorced  from  her  first 
husband,  who  was  Lord  Lennox.  Lady  Lennox  procured  a 
divorce,  and  then  married  the  tenor  Wood.  Lord  Lennox  used 
to  beat  her,  it  was  said.  I  must  go  now,  but  will  be  here  pre- 
cisely at  seven  o'clock  to  accompany  you  to  the  theatre." 

"  Mr.  Granville,"  said  the  fascinating  Clara,  after  the  Count 
had  gone,  "  how  much  have  you  left  of  the  two  thousand  dollars 
you  won  last  night  ?  They  say  you  are  a  terrible  fellow  to 
spend  money.  I  dare  say  you  have  spent  it  all." 

"  No,  I  have  not.  I  have  had  no  chance.  See,  here  it  is. 
Count  it." 

Clara  did  as  she  was  desired  to  do.  She  took  a  thousand 
dollar  bill.  "  Tom,  I  will  be  your  banker,  and  keep  this  for 
safety.  You  will  squander  it.  It  will  do  you  no  real  good. 
With  me  it  will  be  quite  safe." 

Tom  looked  anxiously — 

"  What,  afraid  of  me  !  Here,  take  your  old  trash.  What  I 
proposed  was  for  your  own  good,  and  you  know  it  well,"  and 
the  fair  girl  pouted  as  though  she  was  angry  in  earnest. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Norris,  you  entirely  mistook  me.  Keep  it, 
by  all  means.  I  have  the  most  perfect  confidence  in  you.  In- 
deed, I  insist  you  shall  be  my  banker." 

In  the  struggle  to  force  her  to  keep  it,  her  face  came  near 
Tom's,  and  he  kissed  her. 

"  You  naughty  man.  That  is  the  first  time  I  have  been 
kissed,  except  by  Mr.  Nordheim,  since  I  was  a  country  girl. 
I  do  not  see  how  you  dared  to  do  it.  I  will  take  good  care  of 
this  money,  if  you  wish  it,  but  really,  I  had  rather  you 
would  take  it  back." 

But  no,  Tom  Granville  would  not  consent  to  do  any  thing  of 
the  kind. 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  will  keep  it  safe,  and  you  can  have  it 
whenever  you  wish.  I  should  serve  you  perfectly  right  if  I  nev- 
er gave  it  back  to  you.  It  was  very  wrong  for  you  to  kiss  mo. 
What  would  Mr.  Nordheim  say,  if  he  knew  it  ?  But  to  show 
you  that  I  forgive  you,  I  will  read  French  with  you  an  hour, 
and  then  I  must  go,  for  I  expect  Mr.  Nordheim,  and  he  must 
not  see  you  here." 

Clara  procured  a  book  of  French  plays,  and  lay  down  on  the 
lounge.  Tom  drew  an  ottoman  near  her  head,  and  they  read 
together.  Tom  was  completely  lost.  That  reading  finished 
him.  He  was  madly  in  love  with  Clara  Norris.  She  saw  it  — 
her  pride  was  gratified,  and  she  allowed  him  more  kisses,  and 
when  he  left  he  was  perfectly  insane  about  her.  Wife,  brother, 


VIGOR.  89 

business,  all  were  forgotten.  No  sooner  Lad  he  passed  into 
the  street  than  Clara  took  from  her  bosom  the  thousand  dollar 
bill.  Then  she  walked  to  a  black  walnut  bureau,  unlocked  a 
small  drawer,  and  took  from  it  a  bank  book.  Outside  on  the 
cover  was  marked  "  The  American  Savings  Bank  in  account 
with  Miss  Clara  Norris."  She  opened  it,  and  read  off  various 
sums.  Five  dollars,  ten,  fifty,  eight,  twelve,  thirty-two,  fifty, 
seventy-five,  one  hundred,  two  hundred. 

"  Very  good.  This  is  a  changing  world.  We  do  not  know 
what  may  happen.  Mr.  Nordheim  thinks  I  am  very  extrava- 
gant. So  I  am — this  book  says  I  have  already  squandered  in 
that  Savings  Bank  eleven  hundred  dollars  ;"  and  she  rang  the 
bell.  The  colored  girl  answered  it. 

"  Cheeky,  I  am  going  out  to  be  gone  an  hour.  If  Mr.  Nord- 
heim calls,  say  that  if  he  will  walk  down  Broadway  to  Slew- 
art's  dry  goods  store,  he  will  meet  me  coming  up." 

The  lady  went  out.  In  less  than  an  hour  she  returned,  and 
took  the  same  book  from  her  bosom.  Another  one  thousand 
dollars  .had  been  placed  to  her  credit ;  and  she  carefully  locked 
the  book  in  the  drawer,  and  placed  the  key  around  her  neck. 

"  Now  I  must  dress  for  the  opera  to-night.  What  will  Nord- 
heim say  ?  But  Tom  Granville  is  brother  to  his  partner. 
Surely  he  can't  object  to  my  going  with  him — and  if  he  does  ? 
What  a  fool  Tom  Granville  is  !  And  yet  I  rather  like  him. 
So  I  do  my  mocking  bird  Marion.  But  that  Count — heigho  ! 
I  wish  I  knew  his  history — it  must  be  a  strange  one." 

There  was  a  curious  grouping  of  people  in  the  old  Park 
Theatre  that  night.  Stephen  Price  was  the  manager,  assisted 
by  quiet  Simpson.  The  Woods  were  cramming  the  house  every 
night,  and  the  treasury  was  overflowing.  On  this  particular 
day  the  Woods  had  dined  with  Mr.  Granville  at  his  residence 
in  State  street,  for  he  had  been  very  kind  to  them,  and  was 
their  banker.  Colonel  Mac  Neil  was  at  the  dinner,  and  one  or 
two  more.  Mr.  Wood  insisted  upon  placing  a  private  box  at 
the  disposal  of  Mr.  Granville  and  his  family,  and  the  offer  was 
accepted. 

Mr.  Nordheim  had  also  secured  a  front  bench  in  the  dress 
circle.  He  had  invited  Mrs.  Tom  Granville  and  her  sister  Miss 
Madison  Pinckney  to  go  with  him  He  knew  that  Walter 
Granville  lo\vd  the  latter,  and  so  to  have  Mrs.  Tom  all  to  him- 
self, he  invited  Walter  to  go  with  him. 

Mrs.  Nordheim,  the  day  previous,  had  expressed  a  wish  to 
hear  the  Woods,  and  Marion  had  been  able  to  secure  three 
prominent  seats — and  he  invited  his  old  friend  Wilson  to  take 


90  VIGOR. 

tea  in  Bond  street,  and  then  go  with  Mrs.  Nordheim  and  him- 
self to  the  theatre.     This  was  agreed  to. 

When  the  curtain  rose  that  night,  the  pit,  the  dress  circle 
and  the  galleries  presented  from  the  foot-lights  one  sea  of  hu- 
man heads,  and  they  were  all  in  raptures  with  the  perform- 
ance. Brough  sang  "  My  Boyhood's  Home  "  as  it  never  has 
been  sung  since,  and  Mrs.  Wood  enchanted  the  audience  with 
"  False  one,  I  love  Thee  Still." 

When  the  curtain  descended,  people  began  to  look  about 
them.  Marion  was  the  first  to  utter  an  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise. The  front  seats  occupied  by  his  party  were  directly 
opposite  the  centre  of  the  stage.  A  little  to  the  left  was  Mr. 
Nordheim,  Mrs.  Kate  Granville,  Walter  Granville,  and  Miss 
Madison  Pinckney.  On  the  right  hand  stage  private  box  was 
Mr.  Granville  and  his  family,  including  Col.  Mac  Neil,  and  in 
the  opposite  box  was  Mr.  Thomas  Granville,  the  Count  False- 
chinski,  and  Miss  Clara  Norris.  Mr.  Nordheim  smiled,  and 
came  around  and  spoke  to  his  wife.  Marion,  when  Mr.  Nord- 
heim had  left,  pointed  out  Miss  Norris  to  Mrs.  Nordheim. 
The  only  person  who  felt  particularly  foolish  was  Tom  Gran- 
ville. Mr.  Nordheim  informed  Mrs.  Tom  who  the  lady  was 
that  Master  Tom  had  chartered  a  private  box  to  accommodate. 
The  eyes  of  the  brilliant  Kate  flashed  fire.  She  felt  humili- 
ated and  disgraced,  the  more  so,  as  Mr. 'Nordheim  expressed 
the  deepest  sympathy,  and  mentioned  the  fact  that  the  senior 
Granville  and  his  party  had  been  informed  that  Torn  was  in 
company  with  a  kept  mistress,  and  that  it  must  be  very  annoy- 
ing to  his  brother  !  Poor  Kate  !  Her  love  was  fast  changing 
to  contempt ;  and  Tom  was  more  confirmed  in  his  mad  love  for 
the  beautiful  woman  by  his  side,  as  he  noticed  the  withering 
glances  that  were  bestowed  upon  her  by  those  nearest  and 
dearest  to  him.  Isabella  Granville  leaned  on  the  front  of  the 
box,  and  attracted  universal  admiration.  Marion  seemed  par- 
ticularly struck  with  her  loveliness,  and  made  some  very  en- 
thusiastic remarks  in  her  favor  to  Mrs.  Nordheim.  She  sighed, 
and  in  a  tone  of  voice  that  was  overheard  by  honest,  tender- 
hearted Wilson,  remarked, 

"  Have  a  care,  dear  Marion  ;  don't  fall  in  love  with  that 
trifler,  or  you  will  feel  more  sorrow  than  you  ever  yet  have 
known." 

Wilson  seemed  struck  by  the  sigh  and  the  remark  with  a 
new  idea,  and  he  turned  his  eyes  from  the  one  to  the  other,.but 
he  did  not  say  what  he  thought  of  it,  even  in  "  a  financial  point 
of  view." 


VIGOR.  91 

Walter  Granville  did  the  worst  thing  he  could  have  done. 
He  tried  to  escape  the  observation  of  his  father,  and  yet  not 
actually  neglect  the  fair  Miss  Pinckney  by  his  side.  It  was  of 
no  use,  for  the  senior  Granville  had  a  pair  of  eagle  eyes,  and 
his  course  was  decided  upon  in  his  own  mind. 

At  last  the  opera  was  finished.  Tom  and  the  Count  went  to 
a  supper  party  at  a  Broadway  Saloon.  The  rest  of  those  that 
we  have  grouped  together  returned  to  their  homes. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  Marriage   Arranged — Departure   of  Walter  Granville — Death  of  Mrs. 
Pitt  Granville. 

IT  is  not  our  purpose  to  write  a  philosophical  work;  if  that  were 
the  case,  we  might  philosophise  upon  the  foolish  but  notorious 
fact,  that  a  majority  of  parents,  especially  those  who  are  pos- 
sessed of  wealth  and  aristocratically  descended,  or  in  position, 
deem  it  a  parental  right  to  interfere  in  the  marriages  of  their 
children,  and  if  these  children  happen  to  form  any  attachment, 
and  the  object  of  such  attachment  does  not  happen  to  come  up 
to  the  parents'  standard  of  the  husband  or  wife,  they  have  ar- 
ranged for  their  child,  they  or  one  of  the  parents  goes  to  work 
to  break  it  off. 

Walter  Granville  was  an  only  son.  His  father  was  most 
anxious  that  he  should  tread  his  own  footprints,  and  be  able  to 
succeed  him  in  business,  and  to  keep  the  name  of  Granville 
in  the  commercial  world  for  another  century  at  least.  The 
father  had  given  him  a  good  education,  and  "Master  Wal- 
ter" had  recently  graduated  at  Columbia  College,  with  consid- 
erable credit  to  himself.  It  was  now  the  purpose  of  the 
father  to  place  his  son  in  the  counting-room,  and  to  have  him 
settle  down  in  life,  as  he  termed  it.  He  had  determined  that 
Walter  should  marry  at  once.  True,  he  was  not  out  of  his 
teens,  but  that  fact  was  of  no  importance  to  the  senior  Grau- 
ville.  He  had  a  horror  of  Walter  falling  in  love  with  any 
voung  woman  that  he,  the  father,  did  not  deem  a  suitable 
connection.  He  had  been  driven  almost  to  madness  for 
several  months,  by  haying  hints  given  him,  that  Walter  was 
in  love,  and  engaged  to  Miss  Madison  Pinckne}-.  True,  she 
was  a  very  beautiful  and  a  very  accomplished  girl.  That  is 
all  very  well  so  far  as  it  goes,  but  to  a  mind  like  old  Gran- 


92  VIGOR. 

ville's,  there  was  nothing  tangible  c'ther  in  beauty  or  ac- 
complishments. He  wished  for  his  son's  wife.,  something  more 
reliable.  He  could  give  a  business  and  settle  money  on  his 
son,  and  in  choosing  a  wife  for  him,  he  wanted  the  other  side  of 
the  house  to  be  able  to  do  the  same  thing.  He  had  other 
objections  to  a  marriage  between  Walter  and  Miss  Madison 
Pinckney.  His  brother  had  married  oue  of  the  sisters,  and  one 
of  the  family  was  quite  sufficient,  as  there  was  no  money 
and  never  might  be  any.  It  all  depended  upon  the  caprice 
of  a  "  mean,  mad,  woman"  as  Tom  designated  the  grand- 
mother of  his  wife. 

"  If  Walter  will  marry,  I  have  a  girl  in  view,  that  he  shall 
marry,  and  I  will  make  him  do  it  at  once,  or  know  the  reason 
why."  Thus  spoke  Pitt  Granville  to  himself.  The  party  that 
he  had  fixed  upon  was  Miss  Margaret  Benson,  the  daughter  of 
Colonel  Benson,  and  one  of  the  bridesmaids  at  the  wedding  of 
Kate  Pinckney. 

Colonel  Benson  had  served  in  the  English  army,  but  he  had 
married  an  American  widow  lady  of  wealth,  who  owned  a 
plantation  and  several  hundred  negroes  on  Ashley  River,  near 
Charleston,  South  Carolina.  He  had  resigned  his  commission 
in  the  British  service  and  settled  in  New  York,  where  he  be- 
came a  special  partner  in  a  ccxnmercial  firm,  largely  engaged 
in  the  English  trade.  Tlie  Colonel  held  some  sort  of  special 
agancy  for  the  British  Government,  which  gave  him  no  small 
income.  His  wife  had  one  son  by  her  first  husband,  whose 
name  was  Glen  Hammond.  The  latter  was  a  wild  haruin 
scarum  fellow,  who  was  travelling  in  Europe.  By  Colonel 
Benson  she  had  two  children,  a  son  and  a  daughter. 

The  name  of  the  son  was  Middleton  Benson.  He  was 
nearly  of  age,  and  was  devoted  to  business,  being  engaged 
as  a  clerk  where  his  father  was  a  special  partner.  The  daugh- 
ter Margaret  was  a  tall,  dign'ified  girl  of  eighteen  years  of  age, 
very  haughty,  and  proud  of  her  descent  and  her  position.  She 
worshiped  her  father  and  was  not  likely  to  fall  in  love  with  any 
man.  except  such  a  one  as  her  father  would  approve. 

Colonel  Benson  and  Mr.  Granville  were  on  the  most  intimate 
terms.  If  the  latter  had  needed  for  any  sudden  emergency  half 
a  hundred  thousand  dollars,  the  Colonel  would  let  him  have  it 
any  day  before  three  o'clock.  They  dined,  supped  arid  made 
excursions  together,  and  almost  every  evening  if  one  did  not 
come  to  the  the  house  of  the  other,  that  other  was  sure  to  know 
the  reason.  The  marriage  of  Walter  and  Margaret,  had  often 
been  a  topic  of  conversation  between  these  two  fathers.  But 


VIGOR.  I J 

while  Walter  was  at  college,  there  was  no  need  of  being  in  a 
hurry.  But  the  public  attentions  of  Walter  to  Miss  Pinckney 
at,  the  Park  Theatre  had  brought  matters  to  a  climax,  so  far  as 
Mr.  Granville  was  concerned,  and  the  next  morning  he  sent  a 
note  to  Colonel  Benson,  asking  him  to  dine  in  State  street  that 
day.  The  result  of  that  dinner  was,  that  Mr.  Granville 
agreed  to  place  Walter  in  business  as  soon  as  he  was  of  age — to 
settle  immediately  upon  him,  real  estate  that  should  produce 
two  thousand  dollars  clear  income,  and  the  Colonel  agreed  to 
give  his  daughter  a  house,  and  furnish  it,  and  settle  upon  her 
and  her  children  the  income  of  thirty  thousand  dollars,  two 
thousand  dollars  a  year  addition,  and  these  conditions  were  to 
be  complied  with  at  once,  and  the  marriage  to  take  place 
without  any  delay.  Both  parents  shook  hands  cordially  when 
these  preliminaries  had  been  arranged,  and  then  they  agreed 
to  drink  an  extra  bottle  of  choice  old  Madeira  to  the  health 
and  prosperity  of  the  '  to  be'  married  couple. 

The  same  evening  Mr.  Granville  called  Walter  to  his 
room,  and  informed  him  of  what  he  had  done  to  settle  him  for 
life.  Walter  listened,  but  did  not  say  a  word  until  his  father 
had  amplified  and  explained  all  the  advantages  of  the  match  ; 
he  concluded,  "  Now,  Walter,  I  want  to  hear  your  opinion." 

"  My  opinion  or  wishes  seem  to  have  been  little  consulted." 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  you  are  not  pleased  with  the 
arrangement  I  have  made  for  you  ?" 

"Has  Margaret  Benson  been  consulted?  Is  she  aware  of 
the  honor  about  to  be  conferred  on  her  ?" 

"  What  in  the  world  has  she  got  to  do  with  the  matter,  so 
far  as  we  are  concerned  ?  Her  father  will  arrange  with  her. 
It  is  my  duty  to  attend  to  your  welfare  and  happiness.  Now, 
Walter,  speak  out  like  a  man.  Don't  have  any  foolish  modes- 
ty. Of  course  you  authorize  me  to  say  to  Colonel  Benson  that 
you  are  delighted  with  the  prospect,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
eh,  Walter  ?" 

"  Father,  I  believe  you  love  me.  I  do  not  think  you  have 
any  thing  nearer  to  your  heart  than  my  happiness.  Is  it  not 
BO  ?'•' 

"  Of  course  it  is,  my  boy.  I  love  you  better  than  I  do  my- 
self— and  I  flatter  myself  that  if  any  proof  were  wanting  that 
I  love  and  care  for  you,  this  arrangement  between  Colonel 
Benson  and  myself  made  this  afternoon,  is  enough  to  convince 
you  of  the  f;«ct." 

"  Father  I  cannot  marry  Margaret,  Benson — I  do  not  love 
her." 


94  VIGOR. 

"  Pooh,  pooh,  is  that  all  ?  You  will  soon  learn  to  do  so. 
You  must  marry  her — I  have  given  my  word." 

"  There  is  still  another  reason.  I  love  another,  and  I  have 
promised  to  marry  that  other." 

"You  have!  I  think,  Master  AValter,  that  I  have  one  or' 
two  words  to  say  about  that.  You  mean  Madison  Pinckney. 
She  has  not  got  a  cent,  and  is  very  extravagant,  or  will  be  so, 
if  she  ever  gets  a  chance.  No,  no,  Walter — drop  all  such  non- 
sense. I  will  give  you  until  to-morrow  before  I  go  to  dine  with 
Colonel  Benson  to  think  it  over,  and  then  I  think  you  will  do 
as  I  wish." 

"  Father,  let  it  he  settled  now.  I  cannot  give  up  Miss 
Pinckney,  and  I  will  not.  My  word  is  given  to«her.  and  my 
affections  also.  If  you  do  not  sanction  my  marriage  with  her, 
I  must  do  without  it,  or  wait  until  you  do.  I  will  not  marry 
Miss  Benson  under  any  circumstances.  I  do  not  love  her,  nor 
could  I  have  done  so,  had  my  love  to  Miss  Pinckney  never  ex- 
isted." 

"  Now  hear  me,  Walter  Granville.  From  this  moment  I 
disown  you  as  entirely  as  if  you  had  never  been  born.  Go  cut 
of  this  house  forever.  Go  and  marry  Miss  Pinckney  to-morrow 
if  you  choose,  or  go  to  the  devil.  You  have  disobeyed  your 
father,  and  I  will  disinherit  you.  You  have  mortified  me  be- 
yond measure.  How  can  I  look  Colonel  Benson  in  the  face  ? 
You  need  not  go  penniless.  Take  this  money." 

Walter  took  it,  and  then  flung  it  upon  the  floor. 

*'  Perish  your  money — I  want  none  of  it,  and  I  will  get  out 
of  the  house  before  an  hour.  I  merely  wish  to  bid  my  mother 
and  my  sister  good-bye — and  farewell,  Sir.  The  day  may  come 
when  you  will  regret  this  harsh  treatment." 

"  Never,  sir.  If  you  should  change  your  mind,  and  come 
back  obedient  to  my  wishes,  you  will  be  my  son  once  more. 
Until  that  day  comes,  I  care  not  to  see  you  again.  Begone  !" 

Walter  Granville  bowed  and  left  the  room.  He  was  not  long 
in  packing  a  trunk  with  clothing.  That  done,  he  went  to  his 
mother,  who  was  an  invalid.  What  passed  between  mother 
and  son  is  only  known  to  them.  Isabella  was  not  at  home.  .An 
hour  after  a  hack  conveyed  Walter  and  his  trunks  to  the  City 
Hotel.  He  selected  a  room,  and  then  hurried  up  to  Chambers 
street  to  his  Aunt  Kate's.  Mudison  Pinckney  he  felt  could 
sympathize  with  him.  He  found  her  alone. 

Walter  had  yet  to  learn  another  lesson.  Madison  Piuckney 
was  perfectly  cool  and  very  calm,  while  Walter,  whose  mind 


VIGOR.  95 

was  frenzied,  narrated  all  that  had  passed.     At  last  Miss  Madi-"' 
son  spoke. 

"  You  are  a  silly  boy,  Walter.  Quarrelled  with  your  father, 
and  he  has  turned  you  out  of  doors." 

"  It  was  for  your  sake,  dearest  Madison.  I  could  not  marry 
Margaret  Benson  and  continue  to  love  you." 

"  And  pray,  who  wished  that  you  should  ]  But,  Walter, 
you  certainly  have  no  idea  that  I  am  such  an  immense  simple- 
ton as  to  dream  of  marrying  you,  after  "you  have  been  cat 
adrift  by  your  father.  I  would  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  We 
would  starve  ia  six  weeks.  Love  is  very  fine  if  you  have 
money  or  business  enough  to  keep  house  and  be  comfortable. 
Now  I  advise  you  to  forget  me  as  quick  as  possible,  for  if  your 
father  has  fairly  made  up  his  mind  against  me,  and  in  favor  of 
another  young  lady  as  your  wife,  further  words  are  useless. 
He  is  not  a  man  to  change,  and  although  as  his  son,  you  are  of 
some  account  in  the  world,  yet  cast  off  by  him  I  don't  know 
what  you  will  do." 

"  But,  Madison,"  exclaimed  poor  Walter,  who  was  com- 
pletely heart-broken,  "your  letters — your  caresses  —  your 
promise— your '' — 

"  Do,  for  mercy's  sake,  stop  repeating  that  lover's  cata- 
logue. I  dare  say  I  have  been  very  foolish,  but  I  did  not 
dream  that  your  father  would  oppose  your  marriage  with  me. 
Now  be  a  good  boy.  My  advice  is  to  go  to  your  papa.  Tell 
him  you  have  been  to  see  me,  and  that  you  have  told  me  that 
you  cannot  marry  me,  and  promise  your  father  that  you  will 
marry  Miss  Benson  any  day  that  you  are  called  upon  to  do 
so." 

"  My  dream  is  over,"  exclaimed  Walter.     "  Past — gone." 

"  That  is  right,  Walter.  Wake  up  and  get  over  dreams  as 
soon  as  possible.  They  are  extremely  unhealthy,  and  make 
people  nervous.  Come  and  see  me  as  a  friend  any  time  that 
you  have  leisure.  I  must  say  good-night,  now,"  and  she  left 
the  room.  Walter  seized  his  hat  and  hurried  back  to  the  City 
Hotel.  He  was  enraged  and  mortified  at  himself.  He  did  not 
go  home  to  State  street  again.  That  evening  he  met  with  a  wild 
young  fellow  that  he  had  known  for  some  years — a  regular 
New  York  boy. 

"  I'm  off  to  morrow,"  said  Charley  King. 

"  Where  to  ?"  enquired  Walter. 

"  On  board  a  whaler  bound  round  the  Horn." 

"  Could  I  get  any  berth  aboard  ?" 


96  VIGOR. 

"  Certainly  ;  and  the  skipper  would  be  glad  to  get  you.' 
Have  you  got  any  money  ?"  • 

"Plenty." 

"  Then  let's  have  a  regular  night  of  it  " 

Walter  agreed.  They  visited  every  drinking  place  as  long 
as  any  was  open,  and  then  returned  to  Walter's  room.  The 
next  day  Walter  had  shipped  for  a  whaling  voyage.  The  ship 
Dorothea  went  to  sea  the  next  day,  and  it  was  many  months 
before  Mr.  Grunville  ascertained  what  had  become  of  his 
son. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Granville  became  worse.  The  loss  of  Wal- 
ter preyed  upon  her  mind,  and  her  strength  failed  daily.  May 
arrived,  and  one  morning  Mr.  Granville  did  not  come  to  the 
office.  It  was  whispered  that  Mrs.  Granville  was  worse — dy- 
ing. Then  a  note  came  for  Marion  Monck  to  come  at  once  to 
State  street.  When  he  arrived,  the  servant  said  he  had  orders 
to  show  him  up  to  Mrs.  Granville's  sick  room,  where  Mr. 
Granville  was.  He  entered  the  room.  The  proud  merchant 
was  weeping  and  kneeling  by  the  bed,  with  a  hand  of  his  wife 
in  his.  Isabella,  too,  was  sobbing  as  though  her  heart  would 
break.  Marion  was  about  to  retire  from  so  sacred  a  scene 
when  the  eyes  of  the  dying  woman  fell  upon  him.  "  Come 
here,  Marion,"  she  whispered,  "  give  me  your  hand,  and  prom- 
ise me  that  you  will  be' a  faithful  friend  to  my  two  children, 
and  find  the  lost  one,  and  tell  him  his  mother  blessed  him  be- 
fore she  died."  Marion  promised.  "  They  will  need  a  true 
friend  some  day.  BJ  a  brother  to  my  poor  Isabella.  God 
bless  you."  Marion  left  the  room,  but  not  the  house.  He  re- 
mained in  the  parlor.  Some  time  elapsed,  and  then  Mr.  Gran- 
ville came  into  the  room,  still  sobbing. 

"  It  is  all  over.  She  is  dead.  Close  the  office,  and  then 
come  back  for  further  directions.  Biing  Mr.  Wilson  down  with 
you." 


VIGOR.  97 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

The  Cholera — Summer — Changes. 

THE  funeral  of  Mrs.  Pitt  Granville  was  plain  and  simple, 
and  according  to  the  English  mode.  She  was  buried  in  a  vault 
belonging  to  Mr.  Granville,  in  St.  Thomas'  Church  Yard.  The 
office  was  closed  the  day  she  died  and  the  day  the  funeral  was 
celebrated.  All  the  connexions  went  into  deep  mourning,  and 
for  a  few  days  Mr.  Granville  forgot  his  usual  gaiety.  The 
spring  months  passed  away,  and  then  came  the  summer,  that 
terrible  summer  when  the  Asiatic  cholera  made  its  first  ap- 
pearance in  New  York.  What  a  scattering  of  people  when 
the  facts  became  apparent  that  the  long  dreaded  scourge  was 
here  !  Mr.  Granville  took  his  daughter  to  the  residence  of 
Colonel  Benson  after  Mrs.  Granville's  death,  and  when  the 
cholera  broke  out  she  was  with  Colonel  Benson  and  his 
daughter  at  Niagara  Falls. 

Mr.  Nordheim  closed  up  his  house  in  Bond  street,  and  found 
a  refuge  for  his  wife  at  the  village  cf  Woodbury,  some  twenty 
miles  north  of  New  Haven,  Connecticut.  He  did  not  remain 
but  a  week  with  his  wife,  and  then  started  off  on  a  tour  of 
pleasure.  Mrs.  Tom  Granville  and  her  .sister  went  to  Saratoga, 
while  Tom  accompanied  Clara  Norris  to  her  early  home  in 
Sussex  County,  New  Jersey. 

Mr.  Granvilie  concluded  not  to  leave  the  city,  and  his  ex- 
ample was  followed  by  Mr.  Wilson,  the  Count  Falsechinski, 
and  Marion  Monck.  Although  the  Count  continued  his  lessons 
daily  to  Miss  Norris  up  to  the  day  of  her  departure,  yet  he 
had  regarded  them  as  a  secondary  affair.  Save  when  absent 
to  give  these  lessons,  he  had  devoted  every  hour  to  business. 
He  was  at  the  office  early  and  late.  At  last  he  became  so 
useful  to  the  book-keeper,  that  he  made  him  his  assistant,  and 
Mr.  Granville  ordered  his  salary  raised  to  eight,  hundred  dol- 
lars per  annum,  and  to  be  paid  by  the  house,  and  not  out  of 
Mr.  Nordheim's  private  funds.  Mr.  Granville  invited  Mtirion 
to  take  up  his  residence  at  his  house  in  State  street  to  keep 
him  company. 

5 


98  VIGOR. 

ft  would  be  a  melancholy  chapter  if  I  were  to  relate  all  that 
occurred  iu  the  city  while  the  cholera  raged  here.  It  did  not 
make  Marion  falter  or  flinch.  At  that  time  there  was  scarcely 
a  store  in  Broad  street  except  the  one  occupied  by  Granville 
&  Nordheim.  The  street  was  filled  with  private  residences 
and'  boarding-houses.  Opposite  to  Mr.  Granville's  store,  at 
No.  24,  was  a  boarding-house.  Marion  counted  in  one  day 
Tinie  coffins  taken  out  of  the  one  house,  and  that  very  evening 
he  felt  convinced  that  he  had  the  cholera.  Mr.  Granville  was 
alarmed,  and  made  him  go  to  bed,  and  sent  for  ftmny  old  Doc- 
tor Francis.  Pie  was  shown  into  Marion's  room.  There  Ma- 
rion lay  groaning  with  the  cholera.  The  Doctor  felt  his  pulse, 
asked  some  questions,  and  Marion  related  how  many  coffins  he 
had  seen  come  out  of  No.  24  Broad  street.  The  Doctor 
smiled,  and  ordered  up  a  slice  of  bread.  When  it  came  up, 
he  made  up  two  or  three  small  pills  with  it.  Marion  looked  at 
his  proceedings  with  astonishment. 

"  Take  these  pills  ;  they  will  care  you,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  Why,  they  are  nothing  but  bread,"  said  Marion,  and  he 
jumped  up  in  a  rage  at  the  idea  of  the  doctor  making  fun  of 
him. 

"  Why,  the  very  sight  of  my  pills  has  cured  you,"  and  the 
Doctor  laughed  heartily.  Marion  commenced  dressing,  and  he 
could  not  help  laughing  also.  It  was  catching.  Mr.  Granville 
laughed,  and  so  did  the  servant.  "  Nothing  serious  is  the 
matter  with  you.  You  have  no  cholera.  You  have  see"n  so 
many  coffins  to-day  that  your  nerves  have  become  excited,  and 
you  fancied  you  had  the  cholera.  It's  lucky  for  you,  my  boy, 
that  I  discovered  the  fact,  or  you  might  have  had  it  in  earnest, 
and  perhaps  died  with  it,"  said  Doctor  Francis,  solemnly. 

The  Doctor  descended  to  the  parlor,  accompanied  by  Marion 
Monck  and  Mr.  Granville.  A  glass  of  old  Madeira  made  Marion 
quite  well,  and  when  the  Doctor  departed,  he  went  part  way 
home  with  him.  Many  persons  in  the  hands  of  less  sensible 
doctors  died  that  summer  with  the  cholera  who  had  no  more 
cholera  at  the  commencement  than  did  Marion.  The  doctors 
treated  such  cases  as  cholera,  and  they  died  of  cholera. 

While  the  epidemic  lasted,  only  once  did  Marion  leave  the 
city,  and  then  he  obt-iined  leave  of  absence  for  a  week,  and  he 
spent  it  at  the  village  where  Mrs.  Nordheim  had  gone. 

There  are  some  lovely  villages  in  the  State  of  Connecticut, 
and  none  more  so  than  the  beautiful  town  of  Woodbury,  in 
the  County  of  Litchfield.  It  is  on  the  mail  route  between 
New  Haven  and  Litchfield,  and  about  fifteen  miles  south  of  the 


VIGOR.  99 

latter  town.  The  town  extends  three  miles,  with  houses  pre£ 
tily  laid  out  along  the  whole  line.  There  are  three  places  of 
public  worship,  and  one,  the  Episcopal,  is  located  in  the  corner 
of  a  burying  ground  that  has  been  used  as  such  for  over  two 
centuries.  At  the  south  end  of  the  burying-ground  is  a  neat, 
well-kept  inn,  with  a  largo  garden  that  adjoins  the  burying- 
ground.  It  was  at  this  inn,  or  hotel,  that  Mrs.  Nordheim  had 
obtained  quarters  during  the  prevalence  of  the  epidemic  in 
New  York.  When  Marion  obtained  leave  of  absence  for  a 
week,  he  hurried  up  to  this  town,  and  he  was  delighted  with  it. 
It  was  such  a  contrast  with  a  town  in  his  own  State  of  South 
Carolina.  In  the  village  where  he  was  born  there  was  not  a 
school-house,  and,  in  fact,  not  one  within  thirty  miles.  In  this 
Connecticut  town  there  were  no  less  than  five  district  schools, 
and  one  academy  kept  by  one  of  the  clergymen  of  the  aforesaid 
churches.  Marion  soon  became  acquainted  with  the  principal 
people.  He  attended  singing  schools,  went  on  fishing  excur- 
cursions,  clambered  over  rocks,  bathed  in  the  river,  and  al- 
most every  day  accompanied  Mrs.  Nordheim  to  spend  the  af- 
ternoon or  evening  with  some  one  of  the  families  with  whom 
she  had  become  acquainted. 

The  week  of  absence  soon  passed  away,  and  he  returned  to 
the  city.  Mrs.  Nordheim  continued  to  reside  at  the  village  inn 
until  the  cheering  news  reached  there  that  the  cholera  had 
abated  in  the  great  city.  Arrangements  were  made  for  her 
return,  and  one  lovely  October  morning  she  left  the  quiet 
country  life  to  take  her  part  again  in  the  city  of  New  York. 

One  by  one,  family  after  family,  returned  to  New  York,  and 
about  the  close  of  November  the  principal  part  of  the  ab- 
sentees had  returned,  and  were  as  gay  and  devoted  to  worldly 
pleasures  and  pursuits  as  though  the  Almighty  had  not  sent  a 
destroying  angel  into  the  city  to  remove  by  sudden  and  horrid 
deaths  a  large  portion  of  the  unthinking  population. 


100  VIGOR. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

The  Commercial  Success  of  Marion  Monck — The  Count  Falsechinsk*  specu- 
lates and  makes  money  in  Stocks — The  bargain  of  Mr  Gri-nvdle  with  Mr. 
Nordheim — Mnrion  is  ninetten  years  old — Mrs  Nordheim  prcpo  es  n  party 
—  Tr.e  Irtish  Adventurer,  John  O'Docmall—  Ant.ed'Ae  rf  h  x  Arrival  in 
New  York. 

A  YEAR  passed  away  from  the  time  when  the  scattered  and 
scared  persons  alluded  to  in  our  story  returned  to  the  city  after 
the  cholera  summer.  During  that  year  few  changes  or  occur- 
rences took  place  worth  noticing.  The  duties  of  the  counting 
house  of  Granville  and  Nordheim  were  carried  on  as  usual,  and 
their  business  increased  rapidly.  Mr.  Nordheim  was  absent 
from  the  city,  or  engrossed  with  schemes  of  his  own  personal 
pleasure.  After  the  death  of  his  wife,  and  the  departure  of 
his  son  Walter,  Mr.  Granville  seemed  to  lo.se  a  portion  of  that 
business  energy  that  so  strongly  characterized  him.  These 
two  facts  flung  a  greater  responsibility  upon  Marion  Monck, 
and  Mr.  Granville  had  already  entrusted  him  with  a  power  of 
attorney  to  sign  the  name  of  the  firm.  It  was  a  great  trust  for 
so  young  a  man,  as  Marion  was  not  quite  nineteen  years  old. 
But  he  was  of  the  right  metal,  and  this  confidence  served  as  a 
more  powerful  incentive  to  renewed  activity  and  devotion  to 
the  business  of  his  employers. 

The  Count  Falsechinski,  during  the  eighteen  months  that 
followed  the  cholera  summer  was  not  idle.  He  devoted  his 
time  to  the  duties  of  the  office,  and  by  a  careful  economy  had 
increased  his  deposits  with  his  bankers,  Prime,  Ward  and  King. 
He  had  become  acquainted  with  the  different  members  of  that 
distinguished  firm,  and  one  of  the  partners  made  a  suggestion 
to  the  Count,  in  reference  to  taking  an  interest  in  a  purchase 
of  stock,  which  was  to  be  "  cornered,"  which  proved  valuable  ; 
for  the  Count  availed  himself  of  it  to  quite  a  large  amount,  at 
least  to  four  times  his  capital,-  his  bankers  making  the  pur- 
chase, and  retaining  as  a  "  margin  "  the  funds  of  the  Count  in 
their  hands.  One  December  morning,  the  Count  received  a 
note  from  his  bankers,  requesting  him  to  call  at  the  banking 


VIGOR.  101 

house,  No.  42  Wall  street,  early  in  the  morning,  and  Mr.  Ward 
surprized  him  by  saying, 

"  Count,  you  are  aware  that  our  firm  purchased  for  your 
account  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  Morris  Canal  stock.  It 
has  advanced  fifty  per  cent,  on  the  price  we  paid.  Shall  we 
sell  it  at  the  Board  to-day  ?  I  think  it  has  reached  a  high 
limit.  It  may  go  higher,  but  you  will  make  a  good  thing  of  it 
at  yesterday's  quotations.  What  do  you  say  ?" 

The  Count  had  very  little  to  say,  except  to  authorize  the 
sale  at  the  Board  that  day.  His  orders  were  complied  with. 
The  stock  had  advanced  still  more,  and  when  the  Count's  bank 
book  was  wrote  up  and  handed  him  next  day,  he  found  that  he 
had  to  his  credit  over  eight  thousand  dollars.  This  did  not 
move  him.  He  was  the  same  quiet,  smiling,  unobtrusive 
Count.  He  attended  in  Broome  street,  and  gave  his  lessons 
to  Miss  Norris  regularly  ;  and  that  young  lady  was  already  an 
excellent  Spanish  and  German  scholar,  as  well  as  French, 
which  was  the  first  language  he  taught  her.  Frequently  he 
met  Tom  Granville  at  the  residence  of  Miss  Norris,  but  the 
Count  took  very  little  notice  of  him  on  such  occasions,  nor  did 
the  notorious  fact  that  Tom  was  perfectly  fascinated  with  the 
beautiful  and  accomplished  girl  seem  to  disturb  the  usual  pla- 
cidity of  the  Count.  Occasionally,  when  he  called  to  give  a 
lesson,  he  met  Mr.  l^ordheim  in  the  house  of  Miss  Nurris,  and 
he  seemed  pleased  with  the  progress  that  his  protege  had  made^ 

Our  readers  will  remember  that  Tom  Granville  had  made  an 
arrangement  with  Mr.  Nordheim  to  take  Miss  Norris  off  his 
hands  in  a  specified  time.  He  had  signally  failed  ;  for  al- 
though it  was  quite  apparent  that  Clara  liked  Torn,  yet  her 
ambition  to  learn,  and  the  advantages  she  had  in  her  present 
relations  with  Mr.  Nordheim,  made  her  decline  in  the  most 
positive  manner  all  overtures  to  change,  or  make  any  arrange- 
ment with  Master  Tom.  Now  and  then,  when  Tom  became 
clamorous  for  funds,  Clara  would  give  him  a  fe.w  tens  from  the 
amounts  she  received  from  Mr.  Nordheim,  but  she  never  went 
to  draw  money  from  the  Savings  Bank.  She  received  Mr.  Tom 
CJrunville's  attentions  without  the  slightest  objection.  She 
allowed  him  to  escort  her  to  public  places  on  all  occasions,  and 
it  would  almost  seem  that  she  was  aware  of  the  secret  purpose 
of  Mr.  Nordheim,  but  she  kept  her  own  counsel  in  this  respect. 
Tom  occasionally  spoke  of  his  progress  to  Mr.  Nordheim.  The 
latter  merely  smiled,  with  a  few  words,  such  as,  "  Well,  Tom, 
more  money,  I  suppose."  Tom  would  leave  with  a  hundred 
dollars  in  his  pocket.  He  still  kept  house  in  Chambers  street, 


102  VIGOR. 

but  left  his  wife  to  get  on  as  well  as  she  could  ;  but  when  she 
needed  advice,  she  found  an  adviser  in  Mr.  Nordheim,  who 
was  a  regular  visitor  in  Chambers  street,  and  -escorted  Mrs. 
Tom  Granville  to  nearly  every  private  party  which  she  at- 
tended. Many  who  had  met  them  frequently  in  public,  thought 
that  they  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nordheim. 

Meanwhile  Marion  Monck  was  residing  in  Bond  street, 
where  he  had  removed  when  Mrs.  Nordheim  returned  from 
the  country  after  the  cholera.  Marion  and  Bessy  were  like 
brother  and  sister. 

Another  visitor  now  made  his  appearance  in  Bond  street, 
and  not  a  Sunday  passed  that  he  did  not  dine  at  Mrs.  Nord- 
heim's.  This  was  no  less  a  personage  than  our  serious,  me- 
thodical old  bookkeeper,  Mr.  Wilson.  His  attachment  to  Ma- 
rion, his  sterling  integrity  and  good  sense,  had  rendered  Mr. 
Wilson  a  great  favorite  with  Mrs.  Nordheim,  and  a  welcome 
visitor.  He  was  a  safe  man,  and  the  lady  felt  that  he  was  one 
of  those  that  could  be  relied  upon  in  a  case  of  emergency, 
should  such  a  case  ercr  approach  her  home.  The  Count  False- 
chinski  was  also  a  regular  visitor  at  Bond  street.  He  was  ac- 
complished, and  helped  to  while  away  many  an  hour  pleasantly 
that  without  his  music  and  animated  conversation  would  have 
been  dull  and  cheerless.  , 

December  had  arrived,  and  it  was  near  the  anniversary  of 
Marion's  birth-day.  Mrs.  Nordheim  had  determined  to  make 
some  preparations  for  the  day  when  her  "  brother  Marion  " 
would  be  nineteen  years  old.  She  had  consulted  with  the 
Count  and  with  Mr.  Wilson,,  as  to  what  she  should  do  to  make 
the  occasion  an  agreeable  one,  and  to  be  remembered.  They 
advised  a  party  in  the  evening,  and  this  was  decided  upon. 

"  Marion,"  said  the  lady,  a  few  days  before  the  event  was  to 
happen,  "  I  am  going  to  give  a  small  party  on  the  evening  of 
your  birth-day.  I  hope  the  idea  will  please  you." 

"  Most  unqffestionabiy ;  whatever  you  do,  dear  Bessy, 
pleases  me.  I  have  a  happy  home,  and  I  ought  to  be  very 
thankful  to  you.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  how  I  can  be  suffi- 
ciently grateful  for  all  your  goodness  and  kindness  to  me." 

"  By  telling  me  who  to  invite  that  you  know,  and  that  I  do 
not.  See,  here  is  the  list  of  those  I  have  already  invited." 

Marion  took  the  list,  and  carefully  read  over  the  names. 

"  Why,  you  seem  to  be  better  acquainted  with  the  names  of 
my  friends,  Bessy,  than  I  am  myself:  and  yet  there  is  one 
name  that  is  not  on  the  list,  and  I  wish  you  would  invite  the 
person.  I  have  met  him  frequently,  and  he  has  behaved  with 


VIGOR.  103 

great  civility  to  me.  I  know  of  no  way  to  return  it  except  by 
inviting  him  here.  I  will  take  the  invitation  when  you  have 
filled  it  up,  and  deliver  it  myself.  Here  is  the  name."  And 
Marion  wrote  in  pencil  upon  a  slip  of  paper,  "John  O'Doemall." 

The  name  was  transferred  to  an  envelope,  and  in  the  course 
of  the  day  Marion  delivered  it  to  the  party  for  whom  it  was 
intended.  He  found  Mr.  O'Doemall  in  his  room  at  the  City 
Hotel,  for  this  Irish  gentleman  never  stopped  at  any  place  ex- 
cept it  was  tlic  first-class  hotel. 

As  Mr.  O'Doemall  will  be  frequently  introduced  into  this 
local  history,  it  will  perhaps  be  as  well  that  I  should  give  a 
brief  narrative  of  his  career  from  the  time  he  reached  our  hos- 
pitable American  shore,  until  he  makes  his  appearance  as  one 
of  the  leading  characters  in  our  story. 

Ireland  never  sent  to  the  United  States  a  more  perfect  gen- 
tleman than  John  O'Doemall.  He  claimed  to  be  an  Irish  peer, 
but  in  disguise.  He  sp'oke  the  Spanish  language  as  well  as 
English,  wa?  really  handsome,  very  aristocratic  in  his  bearing, 
dressed  well,  had  the  manners  and  used  fluently  the  language 
of  an  educated  gentleman.  He  was  a  fascinating  lady-killer. 
He  could  discourse  of  beautiful  scenery,  Moorish  palaces,  the 
Alhambra,  Mount  Zion,  and  the  river  Jordan,  life  in  Spain,  in 
Germany,  France,  Holland,  Greece  and  the  East,  including  Je- 
rusalem, Grand  Cairo,  and  Mecca.  There  could  be  no  doubt 
but  that  Mr.  O'Doemall  had  been  a  very  great  traveller.  Ex- 
claim suddenly  "  Jack. — you  Jack!"  and  Mr.  O'Doemall  would 
jump  up  hastily  and  reply,  "  Ay,  ay,  my  Lord  !"  This  was 
tried  on  frequently  by  doubtful  people,  who  had  heard  of  this 
peculiar  trait  in  this  original  Irish  character.  There  seemed 
no  possible  way  of  accounting  for  it,  except  by  surmising  that 
gentlemanly  Jack  had  been,  at  no  very  remote  period,  a  valet 
to  some  Irish  or  English  peer,  and  had  travelled  with  the  said 
peer  in  those  countries  which  Mr.  O'Doemall  could  talk  so 
learnedly  about.  This  was  probably  the  true  secret  of  the  for- 
mer occupation  of  the  Irish  adventurer.  Doubtless  he  had  com- 
mitted some  rascality  that  had  parted  him  from  his  noble 
patron,  and  rendered  it  necessary  that  he  should  try  the  Ame- 
rican continent.  He  landed  from  a  Liverpool  packet  ship  of 
the  Black  Ball  line,  but  as  his  name  never  appeared  in  the 
list  of  cabin  passengers,  it  was  reasonably  supposed  that  he 
came  in  the  steerage.  Before  he  had  been  in  New  York  a 
week,  he  could  have  been  found  at  the  City  Hotel,  located  in 
a  comfortable  apartment,  and  perfectly  at  home. 

One  day    at   dinner    his   agreeable,    gentlemanly  language 


104  VIGOR. 

made  an  impression  upon  a  neighbor  at  tte  table  who  formed 
one  of  a  group  of  gentlemen  that  were  sipping  their  wine  toge- 
ther after  most  of  the  other  diners  had  left  the  table.  This 
gentleman  invited  John  to  take  a  glass  of  wine  with  him,  and 
finally  to  draw  his  chair  nearer  and  join  the  drinking  party. 
John  cheerfully  accepted  the  invite,  and  before  another  hour 
had  passed  he  had  made  a  still  more  decided  impression  upon 
the  individual  alluded  to.  The  conversation  became  general, 
and  John  was  brilliant.  One  of  the  party  having  made  a  state- 
ment that  anybody  could  earn  a  living  in  this  country,  was 
asked  by  John  O'Doemall  the  following  question  : 

"  How  can  a  reduced  Irish  gentleman  earn  an  honorable 
living  ?" 

"  Easily  enough  ;  provided  he  is  not  too  proud  to  take  any 
situation  that  offers." 

"  What  position  could  I  get  ?"  asked  John. 

"  I  have  but  one  that  I  could  offer  you,"  was  the  reply.  "  I 
keep  a  hotel  at  West  Point,  and  I  need  a  bar-keeper." 

"  And  if  you  think  I  would  suit  you  I  accept  the  situation," 
said  O'Doemall. 

The  bargain  was  concluded,  and  Mr.  O'Doemall  received  a 
sufficient  sum  to  pay  his  hotel  bill.  The  next  day  he  left  the 
city  in  company  with  his  new  employer,  and  before  the  week 
had  passed  he  was  concocting  drinks  for  the  pupils  of  Uncle 
Samuel's  great  military  establishnient'near  the  Highlands. 

This  worthy  hotel  proprietor  had  a  young  and  very  beautiful 
sister.  Of  course  it  was  not  long  before  Mr.  O'Doemall  be- 
came acquainted  with  this  sister,  and  also  with  the  fact  that  she 
had  the  snug  little  sum  of  ten  thousand  dollars  in  her  own 
right,  which  sum  would  become  hers  the  very  day  she  married. 
What  arts  so  accomplished  a  traveller  as  Mr.  O'Doemall  used 
with  a  simple  country  girl  to  fascinate  her,  it  is  needless  to 
mention.  They  can  be  easily  guessed.  How  quietly  and  how 
adroitly  everything  was  managed  was  wonderful.  Had  a  thun- 
derbolt pitched  into  the  brain  of  the  worthy  landlord,  he  could 
not  have  been  more  astonished,  than  when  one  afternoon,  just 
as  he  was  preparing  to  take  a  siesta  after  dinner,  his  barkeeper 
requested  a  private  interview.  Somewhat  astonished  at  the 
request,  the  landlord  complied.  When  they  were  alone,  Mr. 
O'Doemall  remarked, 

"  I  believe  sir  I  have  been  with  you  three  months  ?  Per- 
fectly satisfied  with  my  manner  of  performing  my  duties  ?" 

"  I  have  no  particular  fault  to  find,  Jack,"  said  Mr.  Cozzens. 


VIGOR.  105 

"  Well,  sir,  I  shall  leave  you  in  the  down  boat  this  evening, 
and  shall  take  my  wife  with  me." 

"  Your  wife  !  I  didn't  know  you  had  a  wife  !  Where  the 
devil  have  you  kept  her  ?" 

"  I  have  only  been  married  about  a  week,  sir.  Perhaps  you 
will  have  the  kindness  to  read  this  certificate.  It  slightly  con- 
cerns you,  and  when  you  are  satisfied,  I  shall  expect  some  sort 
of  arrangement  in  reference  to  the  trifling  sum  of  about  ten 
thousand  dollars  that  you  are  trustee  for,  and  I  will  henceforth 
relieve  you  of  the  duties  of  trusteeship." 

"  Intriguing,  d — —  scoundrel  !"  was  the  only  comment  ut- 
tered by  the  landlord,  as  he  read  the  certificate.  "  Bring  your 
wife  here  immediately." 

"  With  pleasure." 

The  girl  came.  But  why  prolong  such  a  scene  1  The  bro- 
ther's horror — a  woman's  faith.  O'Doemall  secured  her  pro- 
perty— had  it  placed  in  his  wife's  hands,  and  a  few  days  after 
the  husband  and  wife  came  to  New  York.  Before  six  month .«, 
O'Doemall  had  the  whole  sum  in  a  bank  in  his  own  name.  He 
had  wheedled  his  poor  wife  into  giving  him  the  money.  He 
took  a  store  down  town,  and  commenced  business  as  a  wine 
merchant.  Before  a  year  had  expired,  the  poor  wife  died  in 
giving  birth  to  a  child.  O'Doemall  was  all  right.  He  had 
secured  the  money  safe  by  proper  deeds  and  gifts,  and  was 
now  a  regular  boarder  at  the  City  Hotel — as  more  than  a  year 
had  elapsed  since  the  death  of  his  wife. 

Had  Marion  Monck  been  aware  of  these  interesting  antece- 
dents, I  question  whether  Mr.  O'Doemall  would  have  been  in- 
vited to  his  quiet  home.  Marion  knew  nothing  of  them.  He 
had  first  met  O'Doemall  at  the  rooms  of  Colonel  Mac  Neil.  He 
had  been  introduced  to  him  as  a  merchant  of  capital,  and  he 
had  perceived  that  he  was  an  agreeable  man  of  the  world.  Mr. 
Nordheim  also  associated  with  and  recognized  him,  and  besides 
Mr.  O'Doemall  had  bought  of  the  firm  a  large  bill  of  wines,  and 
he  had  paid  the  cash  for  them.  With  such  and  other  collateral 
evidences  of  respectability,  what  occasion  had  Marion  to  hesi- 
tate about  introducing  him  to  his  home  circle  ?  He  had  none. 


6* 


106  VIGOR. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Mrs.  Nordheim  gives  a  Parti/ — Marion  Monck  is  nintteen  years  ofd—J'hn 
O  Doimall — James  G.  Bennett  nt  <i  pr"'ty — Henry  W.  Ctdar — Mrs.  \\~o-.d- 
rvff — Marion  and  Is  -bella  Granville — A  n  offf.r  and  an  aeccplanct—  Secrtcy 
enjoined — An  (.necdot*  of  the  Author's  "Jirst  love  '' 

THE  eventful  day  arrived.  Marion  Monck  was  nineteen 
years  old.  He  did  not  make  his  appearance  that  day  at  the 
office  of  Granville  &  Nordheitn,  except  for  an  hour  or  two  in 
the  morning,  and  he  returned  to  Bond  street  to  assist  Bessy 
Nordheim  in  the  event  of  her  needing  such  assistance. 

"  Bessy,  I  have  invited  more  people  without  your  permis- 
sion." 

"  Pshaw.  What  do  I  care  for  that  ?  I  have  invited  a  few 
more  than  I  had  on  my  list.  But  we  have  room — plenty  of 
room,  and  I  shall  have  a  gay,  happy  time  of  it.  Our  party 
will  be  a  regular  old  fashioned  party,  Marion.  I  will  not 
have  one  uncomfortable  if  I  can  help  it.  But  pray,  Marion, 
whom  have  you  invited  ?" 

"  First.  Mr.  John  O'Doemall  ;  but  you  know  all  about  that. 
Next,  a  person  connected  with  the  press — with  one  of  the 
daily  papers.  He  is  a  young  Scotchman,  and  used  to  live  in 
Charleston." 

"  That  alone,  to  a  Charleston  girl,  is  almost  a  sufficient  letter 
of  introduction,  without  any  other.  What  is  his  name  ?" 

"  Bennett — James  Gordon  Bennett.  I  was  introduced  to 
him  at  Mrs.  Coffin's,  the  large  bom-ding  house  on  the  corner  of 
Broadway  and  Wall  street,  opposite  Trinity  Church.  I  like 
him  very  much.  He  is  quiet — very  intelligent,  and  you  will 
be  pleased  with  him,  Bessy." 

"  Very  likely.     Who  else  have  you  invited  ?" 

"  Then  I  frequent  Ned  Windust's  Shakespere,  near  the 
Park  Theatre.  I  have  invited  two  friends  from  that  region, 
although  I  had  previously  met  them  both  at  Colonel  Mac  Neil's 
room  at  the  City  Hotel.  They  help  fill  up,  and  are  perhaps 
as  much  my  friends  as  many  other?  that  will  be  here.  One  is  . 
a  literary  man  named  Cedar.  He  writes  for  the  Weekly 
Mirror,  and  for  some  of  the  monthly  journals,  and  he  also 


VIGOR.     ,  107 

writes  novels.  He  promised  me  one,  which  I  will  give  to  you 
when  I  get  it.  The  other  is  a  young  doctor  and  surgeon 
named  Carnochan.  He  is  also  Southron  like  you,  only  born  in 
Florida  instead  of  South  Carolina.  He  has  been  quite  a  trav- 
eller in  getting  surgical  knowledge.  He  studied  in  Scotland 
three  years — in  Paris  he  walked  the  hospitals  four  years,  and 
was  several  years  the  favorite  pupil  of  oue  of  the  first  surgeons 
in  this  city — Doctor  Mott." 

'•  Then  I  suppose  he  has  a  large  practice." 

''  In  playing  billiards,  I  dare  say  yes,  but  as  for  private 
practice,  I  do  not,  Bessy,  believe  he  has  a  solitary  patient  in 
New  York.  He  is  a  gay  man — good  looking — rather  careless 
— has  a  prospect  of  property,  and — well, "I  think  he  lives  off 
those  prospects,  and  a  few  dollars  he  gets  now  and  then  from, 
a  rich  uncle." 

"  I  like  him  already.  He  must  be  an  original,  and  when 
night  comes,  if  your  three  friends  come  also,  I  will  try  and 
make  them  at  home,  and  that  is  all  I  can  do.  Have  you  no 
curiosity  to  know  who  I  have  invited  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  have.     Do  I  know  them  ?" 

"  Yes  and  no.  You  have  observed  the  wealthy  widow  lady 
that  lives  next  door  to  us." 

"  Certainly — Mrs.  Woodruff  is  the  name  on  the  silver  door- 
plate.  I  am  glad  she  is  to  be  here.  Do  you  know  I  have  a 
great  admiration  for  her  ?  She  lives  so  quiet,  no  noise,  sees 
few  friends,  has  her  pet  rabbits,  parroquets  and  parrots,  mock- 
ing birds,  canaries  and  dogs.  Why,  I  have  tried  to  steal  her 
beautiful  fawn  colored  Italian  greyhound  half  a  dozen  times, 
but  I  did  not  like  to  be  so  uuneighborly." 

"I  am  glad  that  you  are  pleased  with  my  inviting  her,  for 
you  will  share  the  responsibility  of  the  act  with  me  to  Mr. 
Nordheim.  I  do  not  know  how  it  is,  but  on  one  or  two  occa- 
sions when  I  have  mentioned  the  name  of  our  lady-like  neigh- 
bors in  his  hearing,  he  has  turned  up  his  nose  'one  degree 
more,  and  then  followed  such  a  curious  expression  upon  his 
face  that  I  asked  him  once  if  he  knew  any  harm  of  Mrs. 
Woodruff." 

"  Pray,  what  reply  did  he  make  ?" 

"  Nordheim  said  he  did  not  know  any  harm  of  her,  on  the 
contrary,  that  he  believed  she  was  highly  connected,  and  that 
her  husband  was  a  man  of  great  genius,  and  died  wealthy, 
leaving  her  a  princely  fortune  and  no  children." 

"  She  has  some  of  the  handsomest  equipages  in  town  call  at 
her  door,"  observed  Marion. 


10S  VIGOR. 

"  That  is  true.  We  have  occasionally  spoken  when  we  h;ive 
met  at  the  door,  and  this  morning  1  boldly  asked  her  to  be 
present  this  evening,  and  she  accepted.  In  addition,  I  hare 
invited  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parker  and  their  beautiful  niece  Julia. 
They  live  up  the  street,  and  called  upon  me  and  Mr.  Nordheim 
yesterday.  They  are  immensely  rich,  have  retired  from  busi- 
ness, and  are  very  desirable  people  to  know.  Mrs.  Parker 
prides  herself  upon  being  one  of  the  principal  leaders  of 
fashion.  She  is  only  twenty-fire  years  old,  while  he  is  fifty  if 
he  is  a  day.  The  niece  is  but  serentoen.  But  who  is  ringing 
away  at  that  door-bell  ?  Is  there  nobody  to  .answer  it?  Go, 
Marion,  to  the  door  yourself." 

Marion  .went  and  opened  the  door,  and  returned,  leading  by 
the  hand,  Isabella  Granville.  The  look  of  intense  admiration 
with  which  Marion  gazed  at  the  beautiful  girl  whose  hair  fell 
over  her  face,  her  cheeks  red  with  excitement,  and  her  eyes 
dancing  with  joy,  was  not  lost  upon  Bessy  Nordheim.  She 
was  rather  cool  at  first,  but  it  did  not  last  long. 

':  I  have  come  to  help  you,  dear  Mrs.  Nordheim.  Papa  said 
I  might  come,  and  I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  relieve  you  of 
your  care  about  the  party,"  said  Isabella. 

"  Thank  you,  Isa  ;  but  I  must  be  at  work,  so  I  will  leave 
you  and  Marion  to  amuse  each  other." 

Mrs.  Nordheim  left  the  parlor  to  go  and  look  after  the  ser- 
vants. Poor  Marion.  Isabella  Granville  took  off  her  bonnet, 
then  her  shawl,  and  then  Marion  seated  himself  by  her  side. 
They  chatted  and  laughed,  and  finally  Isabella  adjourned  to 
the  piano,  played  several  favorite  airs,  and  sang  the  words. 
Marion  stood  by  and  drank  in  every  note.  Isabel  looked  up 
at  him,  when  she  had  finished.  "  Isa."  It  was  all  he  said, 
and  then  he  took  her  hand  in,  his,  and  led  her  back  to  the  sofa. 
He  put  his  arm  around  her  waist,  and  again  repeated,  "Isa,  I 
love  you."  She  did  not  make  any  reply,  but  leaned  her  head 
over  on  his  shoulder.  The  perfume  of  her  hair  almost  took 
away  his  breath.  He  kissed  her  forehead,  and  then,  more 
bold,  he  pressed  her  pouting,  cherry-ripe  lips — not  once,  but 
a  dozen  times,  and — she  returned  it. 

Mrs.  'Bessy  Nordheim,  where  were  you  all  this  while  ? 
Down  in  the  kitchen — the  sweat  pouring  out  of  your  face,  as 
you  gave  hurried  directions  about  the  baking  and  cooking 
arrangements  ;  and  he  for  whom  you  were  making  all  these 
extra  preparations,  was  only  over  your  head,  giving  away  his 
first,  his  puppy  love,  to  a  silly  little  coquette  who  did  not 
know  her  own  inind  five  minutes. 


VIGOR.  109 

"  Isa,  I  love  you.     Do  you  love  me  in  return  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  very  much  indeed.  I  love  you  a  great  deal 
more  than  I  ever  did  Frank  Clacksome,  or  that  stupid  William 
Senless,  although  I  did  love  them  once,  but  I  don't  now.  I 
have  loved  you  ever  since — let  me  see — ever  since  my 
mother  died.  But  you  must  riot  tell  any  body  that  I  love 
you,"  simpered  Isabella. 

"  Of  course,  dear  Isa,  you  will  let  me  speak  to  your  father 
and" said  Marion,  earnestly. 

"  Oh,  no.  Certainly  not.  The  idea  of  such  a  thing  is  per- 
fectly frightful.  Why,  he  would  lock  me  up,  beat  me — I  don't 
know  what  he  wouldn't  do.  He  would  very  likely  make  me 
marry  Middleton  Benson  at  an  hour's  notice,  as  he  tried  to 
make  Walter  marry  his  sister,  and  you  know  I  could  not  run 
away  and  go  to  sea,  as  Walter  did.  Now  don't  look  so  cross, 
Marion.  Kiss  me  again,"  was  Isabella's  reply. 

Marion  complied,  and  told  Isabel  that  he  thought  she  was 
alarmed  without  cause.  "Why  should  your  father  object  to 
me  ?  I  am  only  nineteen,  it  is  true,  but  you  are  very  young. 
We  can  wait,  dear  Isa.  However,  I  will  do  as  you  wish  ;  but 
will  you  promise  to  marry  me  when  your  father  gives  his  con- 
sent ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  will.  But  then  you  are  not  to  ask  him 
and  not  to  say  a  word  to  a  soul  alive  until  I  tell  you  that  you 
may.  I  will  be  very  angry  if  you  do,"  observed  Isabella. 

Marion  promised.  All  further  conversation  was  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  Mrs.  Nordheim,  who  was  too  much  excited 
by  her  culinary  troubles  to  give  any  heed  or  even  to  notice 
the  sheepish  looks  of  the  two  young  friends.  She  called  upon 
Isabel  to  go  up  stairs  with  her,  and  Marion  was  alone.  It  was 
his  first  love.  There  was  a  pretty  face,  his  employer's  daugh- 
ter— and  imagination  must  do  the  rest.  He  thought  Isabella 
perfection  itself;  but  he  was  only  nineteen  years  old,  and  as 
ignorant  of  the  sort  of  partner  he  had  been  making  love  to  as 
though  he  had  never  seen  her.  Youth  must  love  something. 
If  it  is  not  a  reality,  it  will  be  an  ideality.  I  well  remember 
that  my  first  love  was  a  young  girl  that  I  first  saw  in  St. 
George's  church.  I  attended  that  church  in  Beekman  stre'et 
two  years  for  no  other  earthly  or  heavenly  purpose  except  to 
see  her  every  Sunday.  I  did  not  know  her  name  even.  Then 
I  went  to  the  East  Indies — to  Canton— was  gone  a  year.  Eight 
months  of  that  period  I  was  at  sea,  and  I  walked  the  deck  at 
night  and  indulged  thoughts  of  her.  I  dreamed  of  her.  All 
ray  aspirations  of  future  success  in  life  were  associated  with 


110  VIGOR. 

her.  When  I  returned,  I  hurried  to  that  church,  for  it  was 
Sunday  morning  when  I  landed  from  my  Canton  voyage.  I 
found  her  there.  That  Sunday  I  cultivated  the  sexton,  and 
ascertained  her  name  and  where  her  parents  lived.  It  was 
opposite  St.  John's  Park.  There  for  weeks  after  dark,  I  used 
to  go  and  sit  on  the  stone  foundation  of  the  iron  railing,  and 
look  at  the  house  that  contained  the  object  of  my  admiration, 
and  so  four  years  passed.  Then  I  commenced  sending  her 
anonymous  but  costly  presents ;  I  wrote  her  poetry,  and  used 
up  another  year,  but  no  hope  dawned.  I  began  to  see  daylight. 
I  had  lent  two  hundred  dollars  to  a  wretched  cousin  of  my  fair 
flame,  and  he  agreed  to  introduce  me  to  the  family.  "  When  ?" 
I  asked.  "  One  of  the  daughters  is  to  be  married  next  week, 
and  I  will  get  you  an  invitation."  "  Capital,"  I  replied.  "  But 
what  is  the  name  of  the  daughter  that  is  to  be  married  ?"  I 
asked,  "with  a  shiver.  "  Susan,"  was  the  reply.  The  uni- 
verse seemed  to  me  to  have  capsized  for  about  five  minutes. 
"  Susan  "  was  the  name  of  the  daughter  th;it  I  had  so  long 
loved,  and  that  I  had  regarded  as  my  wife.  She  was  to  marry, 
and  did  marry  a  man  named  Wilson.  I  have  hated  that  name 
ever  since.  I  contemplated  having  Susan  arrested  for  spirit- 
ual bigamy  ;  but  was  too  much  occupied  to  commence  pro- 
ceedings. Then,  again,  as  I  ha_d  never  spoken  spoken  a  word 
to  her  in  my  life,  it  made  it  so  odd.  That  was  my  first  love — 
my  puppy  love — and  it  was  deep  in  the  heart.  Susan  has 
children — ay,  grandchildren — now,  but  I  never  see  her  in  the 
street,  meet  h^r  in  church,  but  soft,  pleasant  memories  will 
steal  over  me  of  my  long-tried  love.  The  only  thing  painful 
about  it  is  that  I  did  not  say  something  to  Susan  at  "he  time. 
It  was  all  one  side.  I  ought  to  have  let  her  know  something 
about  it,  and  the  chances  are  decidedly  in  favor  of  the  supposi- 
tion that  the  abominable,  plodding  Wilson  that  made  my 
Susan  Mrs.  W.  would  have  been  nowhere. 

But  to  return  to  Marion  Monck.  He  was  obliged  to  full  in 
love  with  somebody  or  something.  He  was  honest  as  the  day 
was  long.  He  would  not  commit  a  wrong.  He  liked  Bes.sy 
Nordheim.  He  never  dreamed  of  loving  her,  bcc:iu.se  she 
was  his  employer's  wife  ;  and  for  want  of  a  better  real  to  his 
ideal  in  soul,  he  fell  in  love  with  Isabella  Granville.  She 
remained  until  afternoon  in  Bond  street,  and  then  Marion 
accompanied  her  home  in  State  street,  where  she  went  to  dress 
to  return  to  the  party  that  evening.  That  party  must  com- 
mence another  chapter. 


VIGOR.  HI 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Th?  Evening  Party  comes  off"  at  Mrs.  Nnrdh-im's — -The  guests — Mr.  Ben- 
ne.tt's  Convrsat  on — Mr.  and  Mrs  Park-r  and  nitce  Julia — Old  John 
Gra*p>r.  the  million-lire — Col.  Mac  Neil  and  Miss  Irene  Grasper — Mr. 
B-nnett's  family  and  birth  place  in  Scotland — Col  Mac  Ndl  offers  Ai.1 
hand  to  Miss  Grasper,  in  acceptid  bi/  h?r,  and  rfjectfd  by  h:r  fathe.r — "Ao 
wan  is  rich  enough  to  support  two  families" — Mrs.  Woodruff  s  Residence 
• — Her  horses  and  c-i  ring  s —Her  pic  in  Grace  Church,  and  hfr  pi'ty  — 
The  Count  Falstchin  kf.  at  the  party  —He  offers  to  go  to  church — The  party 
brtaki  up. 

THERE  was  a  vast  difference  between  an  evening  party  thir- 
ty years  ago,  and  now.  In  those  days,  the  hour  in  the  even- 
ing when  the  guests  assembled  at  the  hospitable  mansion  was 
much  earlier,  and  the  hour  when  the  p'arty  dissolved  was  not 
later  than  midnight.  The  refreshmants  were  of  a  different 
order.  Then  there  were  the  solid,  old-fashioned  mahogany 
sideboards,  filled  with  good  things,  and  covered  with  substan- 
tial eatables  and  drinkables.  There  \^s  choice  old  South- 
side  Madeira  that  had  been  in  cask  forty  years.  There  was 
old  cider  for  old-fashioned  people,  and  quantities  of  cut  glass 
dishes  overloaded  with  cracked  hickory  nuts.  Rhode  Island 
Greenings  and  Spitzbergen  apples  were  piled  up  on  famous 
large  crockery  open-work  dishes,  and  the  young  people  could 
eat  nuts  and  do  courting  at  the  aforesaid  sideboards.  Then 
the  supper  was  a  substantial  supper,  with  oysters  done  in  every 
style,  and  cold  turkey  and  chicken,  and  knives  and  forks  and 
plates,  and  above  all,  room  for  all  the  guests  to  partake  of  the 
good  cheer  in  comfort.  There  was  a  room  for  the  supper. 
There  was  room  for  those  who  danced,  and  room  for  those  who 
played  whist,  or  who  wished  to  converse. 

Those  were  good  old  days,  but  they  have  changed  for  the 
worse.  Few  of  our  readers  but  what  know  from  personal  ex- 
perience the  difference  between  such  a  party  as  we  have  des- 
cribed, and  one  in  the  modern  times,  when  all  is  heartlessness, 
claptrap  and  show. 

Before  eight  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  Marion  Monck's  birth- 
day, the  two  large  parlors  of  Mr.  Nordheim's  spacious  resi- 
dence in  P>  nd  street  were  partly  but  not  uncomfortably  filled 


112  VIGOR. 

with  the  persons  to  whom  invitations  had  been  sent.     There 
was  not  one  missing. 

Mr.  Nordheim  could  act  the  gentleman  when  he  chose  to  do 
so,  and  on  this  occasion  he  spared  no  pains  to  make  every  one 
feel  at  home.  His  partner,  William  Pitfc  Granville  and  Isa- 
bella were  among  the  first  to  arrive  ;  and  soon  after,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Tom  Granville,  accompanied  by  Miss  Madison  Pinckney, 
were  announced.  Tom  had  no  sooner  entered  than  he  was 
hurried  to  the  piano  by  Miss  Benson,  who  knew  how  delight- 
fully Tom  played  upon  that  instrument.  Colonel  Benson 
joined  Pitt  Granville,  a.nd  with  Colonel  Mac  Neil  and  Mr.  Ce- 
dar the  author,  a  whist  party  was  made  up. 

Marion  did  the  honors  to  a  certain  extent,  fur  as  fast  as 
those  arrived  to  whom  he  had  specially  given  invitations,  and 
who  were  personally  unknown  to  Mrs.  Nordheim,  he  presented 
them  by  name  to  the  latter  lady.  Mr.  Bennett  and  Mr.  Wilson 
came  in  together,  and  after  the  former  had  been  presented  to 
the  hostess,  he  retired  quietly  to  an  ottoman  in  a  corner  of  the 
room,  and  there  remained  until  Mr.  Wilson  wont  and  took  a 
seat  by  his  side. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  join  the  dancers  presently,"  said  honest 
Wilson. 

"  No  indeed.  I  don't  dance.  I  prefer  looking  on.  It  is 
very  rare  that  I  go  out  to  a  party,  and  when  I  do  I  have  my 
own  way  of  enjoying  myself.  As  you  seem  to  know  most  of 
the  people  here,  you  will  confer  a  great  favor  upon  me  if  you 
will  tell  me  ajl  about  them.  I  am  very  fond  of  studying  cha- 
racters, and  I  am  much  deceived  if  you  have  not  some  origin- 
als here  to-night.  Mrs.  Nordheim  is  a  beautiful  woman — 
which  is  her  husband  ?"  asked  Mr.  Bennett. 

"  That  Jewish-looking  man  talking  with  Mr.  Thomas  Gran- 
ville," replied  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  I've  seen  him  before.  I  conversed  with  his  lady  a  few 
moments  about  Charleston  ;  I  must  have  seen  him  at  the 
South,"  was  Mr.  Bennett's  observation. 

"  Very  likely  :  and  Mr.  Nordheim  is  a  man,  that  if  you  see 
him  once,  you  are  not  likely  to  forget  him.  He  is  not  re- 
markable for  his  beauty,  but  he  is  clever  in  a  financial  point 
of  view,"  said  Wilson. 

Here  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parker  and  Miss  Julia  Parker  were  an- 
nounced, and  soon  after  were  cordially  received  by  the  host 
and  hostess.  The  latter  introduced  Marion,  and  he  offered  his 
arm  to  conduct  Miss  Julia  to  a  seat.  Mrs.  Parker  and  her 
husband  followed.  Soon  after,  Mr.  Nordheim,  accompanied  by 


VIGOR.  113 

Mr.  O'Doemall,  introduced  him  to  Mrs.  Parker,  and  the  hus- 
band went  off  to  find  Mr.  Granville,  who  was  an  old  acquaint- 
ance. These  parties  are  disposed  of,  and  we  now  return  to 
Mr.  Bennett  and  Mr.  Wilson.  Mr.  Bennett  remarked, 

"  Thoso  last  arrivals  seem  to  create  quite  a  sensation  ;  who 
are  they,  Mr.  Wilson  ?" 

"  Oh.  Mr.  Parker  is  as  rich  as  Crcesus — retired  from  all 
sorts  of  business,  married  a  handsome  wife  only  one  third  as 
old  as  he  is,  and  they  live  up  the  street  in  princely  style,"  was 
the  reply  of  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  Their  daughter  is  an  elegant  girl,"  said  Mr.  Bennett. 

"  She  is  only  a  niece,  and  the  aunt  is  very  jealous  of  her. 
Do  you  see  that  nice  young  man  who  is  paying  such  devoted 
attention  to  Mrs.  Parker  ?"  asked  Mr.  Wilson.' 

"  Yes  ;  who  is  he  ?"  asked  Mr.  Bennett. 

Mr.  Wilson  rolled  up  his  eyes  as  he  replied,  "  Prom  all  ac- 
counts, he  is  a  hard  case,  in  a  financial  point  of  view.  I  don't 
know  much  about  him.  He  is  able  to  make  the  female  sex  be- 
lieve black  is  white,  and — well,  in  a  financial  point  of  view,  he 
is  said  to  be  a  regular  Jeremy  Didler.  He  goes  on  change, 
and  he  gets  into  society  somewhere  or  other,  and  no  English- 
man of  any  account  comes  to  this  town  but  what  Mr.  O'Doemall 
gets  into  his  good  graces.  Why,  man,  I  don't  believe  but  what 
lie  owes  every  hotel  in  town  except  the  one  where  he  resides. 
He  conies  to  our  office  occasionally,  but  I  don't  like  him." 

Mr.  Bennett  smiled  and  observed,  "  He  seems  to  be  making 
himself  very  agreeable  to  Mrs.  Parker." 

"  He  make  himself  agreeable  !  Why,  sir,  he  has  already  ex- 
plained to  her  all  about  our  Savior's  tomb  at  Jerusalem,  and 
promised  her  a  fragment  of  the  rock  which  covered  'our  Sa- 
vior's sepulchre,  which  he  has  at  his  hotel,  and  which  he  got 
from  a  monk  when  he  was  last  iu  Holy  Land.  I'll  bet  two  to 
one  that  she  has  already  invited  him  to  call  to  morrow  with  it 
at  her  residence,"  said  Wilson. 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  has  a  piece  of  the  rock?" 

"  Hock  be  hanged.  No  ;  doubtful  if  he  was  ever  nearer  Je- 
rusalem than  I  have  been.  As  for  the  rock,  he  will  smash  a 
piece  off  the  curb-stone  as  he  goes  up  to  her  house,  and  take  it 
along  with  him.  He  is  a  bad  customer,  in  a  financial  point  of 
view,  and  if  he  once  gets  a  foothold  in  the  house  of  Mrs.  Par- 
ker, she  will  never  get  him  out,"  said  honest  Wilson. 

Mr.  Bennett  queried  out  of  the  book-keeper  the  name  and 
occupation  of  nearly  every  person  in  that  room,  and  then  they 
left  it  together  to  join  the  dancers,- who  were  busily  occupied 


114  VIGOR. 

on  the  floor  above.  They  had  hardly  procured  seats  befora 
Mr.  Bennett  was  much  struck  by  the  appearance  of  an  elderly 
person  who  was  watching  the  dancers.  He  asked  Wilson  who 
that  was. 

"  Old  Grasper,  the  millionaire,"  was  the  reply. 

In  those  days,  thirty  years  ago,  millionaires  were  very  few 
and  far  between  in  the  city  of  New  York.  Now  they  are  as 
plenty  as  pickpockets  in  a  great  assemblage.  Old  John  Gras- 
per was  considered  about  as  rich  as  any  other  man,  with  one, 
or  perhaps  two  exceptions.  Astor  could  set  several  numerals 
to  the  word  millions.  Old  Nat  Prims,  of  the  firm  of  Prime, 
Ward  &  King,  was  getting  up  rapidly  towards  a  million,  and 
would  have  overreached  it  by  the  rise  of  city  property  had  he 
not  died  suddenly.  Then  there  was  Stephen  Whitney,  who 
was  running  up  on  the  hundreds  of  thousands,  but  did  not 
touch  "  million."  Thirty  years  ago  Bobby  Lennox,  who  made 
Lis  first  property  while  a  clerk  to  the  Commissioners  of  the 
British  prison  ships,  could  count  up  to  three  or  four  hundred 
thousand,  and  John  Graspe.r  was  not  far  behind  the  richest  of 
them  (save  Astor)  in  those  days.  He  had  recently  built  him  a 
house  out  of  town  of  granite,  and  people  wondered  at  such  ex- 
travagance and  folly  as  to  put  up  so  costly  a  building  way  up 
Broadway,  above  Prince  street.  But  old  John  finished  it, 
and  in  spite  of  opposition  moved  into  it  from  his  brick  house 
on  the  north-east  corner,  where  the  Astor  House  now  stands, 
and  took  a  position  as  one  of  the  aristocratic  families  in  New 
York.  He  had  two  children — one  a  boy  and  the  other  a  girl, 
or  rather,  these  children  were  a  young  man  named  Francis, 
who  sp5rted  his  money  around  town  as  one  of  the  exclusives, 
and  a  fair  girl  named  Irene,  who,  with  her  pecuniary  prospects 
so  flattering,  was  acknowledged  as  one  of  the  elite  and  most 
fashionable  young  ladies  about  town.  Old  Grasper  had  other 
children,  but  they  have  no  connection  with  this  story,  and  need 
not  to  be  alluded  to.  Mr.  Grasper  was  a  man  of  strict  business 
habits.  He  had  acquired  property  in  the  fur  trade,  and  he 
judiciously  invested  it  in  real  estate  and  bank  stock.  After 
he  retired  from  active  commercial  life  he  was  elected  presi- 
dent of  a  city  bank.  The  position  was  a  respectable  one,  and 
the  income  from  this  office  was  well  worth  having  by  even  one 
of  the  richest  citizens. 

On  the  present  occasion  old  Mr.  Grasper  was  watching  every 
movement  of  his  daughter  Irene,  whu  was  dancing  with  Colo- 
nel Mac  Neil.  His  eyes  scarce  wandered  for  a  moment  from 
them.  Mr.  Bennett  and  Wilson  took  seats  near  him. 


VIGOR.  115 

"  So  that  is  old  Grasper,  who  is  so  rich — the  millionaire,  as 
you  say,  31r  Wilson, >:  said  Mr.  Bennett. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Bennett,  and  judging  by  the  way  he  is  watching 
the  attentions  of  Colonel  Mac  Neil  to  his  child,  I  should  think 
something  was  broke.  He  evidently  don't  like  Colonel  Mac 
Neil's  sweet  demonstrations  upon  his  daughter — it  is  bad  in  a 
financial  point  of  view ;  for  my  own  opinion  of  Colonel  Mac  is 
that  he  is  not  worth  a  cent." 

"  He  may  be  a  good  man,  for  all  that.  Scotch — is  he  not  ?" 
replied  Mr.  Bennett. 

"  Yes  sir.  He  might  be  a  good  man,  but  he  is  not,  in  a 
financial  or  any  other  point  of  view.  He  is  a  very  immoral 
man.  Bat  you  are  Scotch  too,  are  you  not  ?''  asked  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  1  certainly  was  born  in  Scotland,  and  lived  there  until  I 
was  sixteen,  when  I  came  to  this  country,  and  have  been  here 
ever  sin'ce.  I  am  from  a  different  part  of  Scotland  than  where 
this  Mac  Neil's  race  lived.  My  family  were  Catholic  Scotch, 
and  believed  in  the  Divine  rights  of  the  Stuarts  down  to 
this  day.  My  mother  was  as  strongly  in  favor  of  the  Stuart 
dynasty  as  were  her  ancestors  before  her,  although  years  had 
passed  since  there  was  the  remotest  hope  of  any  of  that  royal 
race  ever  reigning  again  in  Great  Britain.  But  tell  me  more 
about  this  Colonel  Mac  Neil.  You  say  that  he  is  immoral. 
How  so  ?  Gambles,  I  suppose?"  asked  Mr.  Bennett. 

"  Worse  than  that.  He  seducod  in  Canada  a  virtuous  young 
lady  named  Jane  McPherson.  She  was  a  soldier's  daughter. 
I  have  seen  the  poor  old  father,  McPherson.  He  came  down 
to  New  York  to  try  and  persuade  his  child  to  return  home. 
But  no — she  would  not  do  it.  She  loves  Mac  Neil  too  well. 
She  lives  very  retired  as  his  mistress,  and  has  two  children  by 
the  Colonel.  Poor  thing  !  She  hopes  some  day  that  Mac  Neil 
will  make  an  honest  woman  of  her  by  marriage.  There  is  no 
hope  of  that — the  Colonel  must  marry  for  money,  and  he  will 
do  it  too,  if  he  can." 

While  this  conversation  was  being  carried  on,  the  object  of 
it  was  deeply  engrossed  with  Miss  Irene  Grasper.  They  had 
finished  dancing,  and  Col.  Mno  Neil  conducted  his  fair  partner 
to  one  of  the  side  rooms.  They  were  alone.  Irene  Grasper 
was  a  magnificent  girl,  stately  in  appearance,  with  a  profusion 
of  light  auburn  locks  arranged  with  great  taste.  Her  cheeks 
were  pale — her  eyes  a  mild  blue.  When  she  was  seated  where 
few  were  likely  to  interrupt  them,  Mac  Neil  took  one  hand  in 
his  own,  and  in  deep  impassioned  tones  observed, 

"  You  know,  dear  Irene,  how  devotedly — how  madly  I  have 


116  VIGOR. 

loved  you.  To-night  I  must  know  from  your  own  lips  my  fafe. 
You  must  have  perceived  how  closely  your  father  watched 
every  motion  while  we  were  dancing.  Do  you  love  me,  Irene?" 

"  0  Colonel,  how  can  you  a?k  me  such  a  question  !  You 
know  that  I  do.  How  could  I  help  it,  although  I  have  tried  to 
do  so,"  replied  the  lady. 

"  Tried  to  help  loving  me,  Irene  ?  What  do  you  mean  by 
that  sentence  1  Why  do  you  wish  not  to  love  me?"  asked 
Colonel  Mac  Neil. 

"  I  do — God  knows  I  do.  0  Colonel,  there  are  so  many 
stories  told  about  you — so  many  lies,  perhaps  scandal — and 
yet  I  am  afraid  almost  to  dream  of  trusting  my  happiness  in 
your  keeping." 

"  Do  you  confess  that  you  love  me,  Irene  ?"  asked  Col.  Mac 
Neil. 

"  I  do,"  replied  the  fair  girl,  her  eyes  swimming  in  tears. 

"  And  will  you  authorize  me  to  make  that  statement  to  your 
father,  when  I  ask  him  for  your  hand,  which  I  will  do  to- 
night ?"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  0,  do  not !  He  will  not  give  his  consent,  and  I  shall  be 
more  miserable  than  ever,"  said  Irene. 

"  That,  dear  Irene,  we  shall  see.  There  can  be  no  great 
harm  in  my  asking.  I  owe  it  to  myself — to  my  own  self-re- 
spect. Why  should  he  not  give  his  consent  ?  I  am  his  equal, 
except  perhaps  in  point  of  wealth,  and  of  that  he  may  have 
more  than  I." 

What  reply  the  young  lady  might  have  made  is  not  so  cer- 
tain, for  just  at  that  moment  Mr.  Grasper  the  millionaire  made 
his  appearance  upon  the  scene.  Colonel  Mac  Neil  arose. 

"  Be  seated,  sir  ;  and  you,  Miss  Irene,  go  and  join  your  mo- 
ther. I  would  like  to  say  a  few  words  to  you,  sir,"  observed 
Mr.  Grasper. 

Colonel  Mac  Neil  rose  and  bowed  to  Miss  Irene  as  she  left 
the  room,  and  then  re-seated  himself. 

"  I  am  waiting  patiently  to  hear  the  words  you  mentioned 
that  you  wished  to  address  to  me,"  said  Colonel  Mac  Neil. 

"  Colonel  Mac  Neil,  you  have  been  very  pointed  in  your 
attentions  to  my  daughter  of  late,  and  especially  to-night.  I 
am  a  plain  man,  sir,  and  should  like  to  ask  you  what  are  your 
intentions  towards  her  ?"  demanded  old  Mr  Grasper. 

"  Honorable,  of  course,  sir.  I  would  like  to  see  that  person 
who  dared  say  or  hint  otherwise  !"  said  Col.  Mac  Neil.  . 

"  0 — ah — yes.  That  is  all  very  well,  sir.  Honorable^ 
that  means  marriage.  That  is  just  what  I  don't  want.  I  had 


VIGOR.  117 

just  as  lief  your  intentions  were  what  you  would  call  dis- 
honorable.  It  would  suit  me  as  well,"  sternly  observed  Mr. 
Grasper. 

"  Mr.  Grasper,  I  thank  you  for  opening  the  way  to  a  propo- 
sal I  have  to  make.  T  love  your  daughter.  You  need  not  sneer, 
sir.  I  love  her  for  herself  alone.  You  may  think  I  seek  her 
hand  in  honorable  marriage  because  she  is  the  daughter  of  a 
wealthy  man.  It  is  false,  sir  !  I  care  not  for  her  money.  She 
loves  me,  sir,  and  will  confess  it  with  her  own  lips,  if  you  will 
ask  her,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Shan't  do  anything  of  the  kind.  I  will  not  consent  to  your 
marrying  her  under  any  circumstances.  If  you  take  her,  God 
curse  me  if  I  ever  give  her,  directly  or  indirectly,  dead  or  alive, 
a  solitary  cent  to  keep  her  or  you  from  starving.  Do  I  speak 
plain  ?"  sternly  observed  Mr.  Grasper. 

"  Perfectly  ;  but  really,  Mr.  Grasper,  some  explanation  is 
necessary.  I  have  a  good  business.  I  can  support  my  wife. 
My  position  in  society  is  equal  to  yours.  By  birth,  I  am  at 
least  your  equal.  Pray,  Mr.  Grasper,  give  me  some  reason  for 
so  extraordinary  a  refusal  to  my  proposition.  I  am  no  beggar !" 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  give  you  the  reason — my  real  reason  1" 
asked  Mr.  Grasper. 

"  I  do,  most  respectfully,"  replied  Colonel  Mac  Neil. 

"  And,  Mr.  Mac  Neil,  if  I  do,  and  if  it  is  satisfactory,  will 
you  promise  me,  as  a  man  of  honor,  that  you  will  go  to  my 
daughter,  and  say  to  her  that  you  relinquish  her  affections,  and 
all  claim  to  her  hand  ?"  asked  Mr.  Grasper. 

"  I  will,  upon  my  honor.  And  now  let  me  hear,  if  you  please, 
the  reason,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Colonel  Mac  Neil,  you  may  be  doing  a  good  business — 
you  may  be  making  money — I  care  not.  I  do  not  believe  you 
or  any  other  man  is  doing  a  business  sufficient  to  justify  him 
in  attempting  to  support  two  families." 

Colonel  Mac  Neil  was  for  a  moment  paralyzed.  He  was  not 
prepared  for  this.  "  Stop  one  moment,  sir — I  am  satisfied." 

Mr.  Grasper  passed  out  of  the  room. 

"  What  a  fool  I  have  been  !  Who  in  the  fiend's  name  could 
have  told  him  that  I  kept  a  mistress,  and  had  two  children  by 
her  ?  That  is  what  he  meant.  Well,  I  am  as  proud  as  he  is." 

A  moment  after  he  joined  Miss  Grasper,  and  addressed  her 
as  easily  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  Ere  he  left  her 
side,  he  said, 

"  Irene,  we  meet  hereafter  as  strangers.  Your  father  has 
refused  me  your  hand.  I  am  satisfied,  and  shall  never  claim 


118  VIGOR. 

it  again.     God  bless  you  !"     And  soon  after  he  took  his  leave 
of  Mrs.  Nordheim,  and  left  the  house. 

Mr.  Bennett  had  noticed  some  of  these  proceedings,  and 
when  Colonel  Mac  Neil  took  his  hasty  departure,  he  gently 
nudged  Mr.  Wilson,  remarking,  "  My  Scotch  friend,  the  Col- 
onel, seems  to  have  had  a  rebuff  from  some  quarter." 

"  Indeed  he  has.  I  overheard  a  few  high  words  between 
him  and  old  Grasper  a  short  time  ago,  and  I  think  the  Colonel 
will  haul  off  in  that  quarter." 

He  communicated  to  Mr.  Bennett  the  "  two  families  to  sup- 
port "  remark.  The  latter  laughed,  and  said  he  had  not  thought 
Air.  Grasper  had  so  much  keen  wit  in  his  composition. 

"  It  was  not  bad,  was  it1?"  said  Mr.  Wilson. 

Marion  Monck  was  not  idle  for  a  moment.  He  introduced 
such  people  to  each  other  as  he  thought  would  make  agreeable 
acquaintances.  Such  of  his  friends  as  were  bashful,  he  led  up 
to  the  prettiest  girls,  and  made  them  select  partners  for  the 
dance.  At  last  he  approached  Mr.  Bennett. 

"  Come,  come,  sir,  this  will  not  do.  Why,  you  are  destroj-- 
ing  Mr.  Wilson's  usefulness?,  and  it  don't  pay  in  a  pecuniary 
point  of  view — eh,  Mr.  Wilson  ?  What  can  you  two  have  to  . 
say  to  each  other  of  so  much  interest  ?  Mr.  Wilson,  you  must 
take  down  Mrs.  Nordheim  to  supper  to-night,  and  as  to  Mr. 
Bennett,  I  must  trust  him  to  take  charge  of  my  sweet  Isabella 
Granville.  Consider  yourselves  engaged,  both  Monsieurs, 
when  the  proper  time  comes,"  and  he  passed  on  and  joined 
Mrs.  Woodruff,  who  was  seated  alone. 

"  That  Marion  Monck  is  a  noble  fellow,  Mr.  Bennett.  What 
do  you  think  of  him  ?  You  have  known  him  some  time,  he 
informs  me." 

"  For  some  months.  He  came  up  to  the  editorial  rooms  of 
the  Courier  to  see  Colonel  Webb  one  day,  and  I  then  had  a 
short  conversation  with  him.  I  have  since  met  him  at  my 
boarding-house,"  was  Mr.  Bennett's  reply. 

"  He  will  make  a  great  merchant  one  of  these  days,  I  am 
thinking,"  added  Mr.  Wil.son. 

"  1  have  my  doubts  about  that.  I  do  not  think  he  will  make 
a  great  merchant,  nor  a  small  one,  either.  He  has  talent  of  a 
high  order,  and  fitted  for  a  higher  sphere,  or  I  am/ much  mis- 
taken," observed  Mr.  Bennett. 

"  Higher  sphere  !"  repeated  the  indignant  Wilson  ;  "  what 
higher  sphere  is  there  in  New  York,  I  should  like  to  know  ?" 

"  I  don't  wish  to  be  rude,  but  I  think  to  be  an  editor  re- 
quires  a  higher  order  of  talent  than  it  does  to  make  a  success- 


VIGOR.  119 

ful  shop-keeper — or,  I  beg  your  pardon — a  leading  merchant. 
Young  Monck,  I  dare  say,  has  never  written  a  line  in  his  life, 
yet  I  think  some  day  he  will  make  a  clever  journalist.  He 
will  if  he  can  write  as  well  as  he  talks — but  time  makes  strange 
changes."  . 

Time  proved  it,  for  what  that  editor  prophesied  became  true 
in  after  years  to  a  far  greater  extent  than  even  he  dreamed  of 
at  that  early  period. 

Marion  was  deeply  engaged  in  conversation  with  Mrs.  Wood- 
ruff. She  seemed  grateful  for  his  attention.  "  I  feel  almost 
isolated  here  to-night,  knowing  so  few,  in  fact  none  except  the 
inmates  of  this  house,  by  seeing  you  pass  in  and  out  of  the 
doors,"  was  her  remark. 

"  Yoa  have  resided  next  door  to  us  over  a  year,  have  you 
not  ?  I  have  always  admired  that  house — it  is  at  least  one- 
third  deeper  than  our  house,  and  the  yard  is  larger,  and  very 
beautifully  arranged  with  trees,  plants  and  flowers.  You  must 
be  fond  of  flowers,  madam  V 

"  Very,  indeed.  I  love  them.  My  husband  has  been  dead 
some  years,  and  but  for  my  pets,  and  my  flowers,  I  should  not 
know  what  to  do,"  replied  Mrs.  Woodruff. 

"  Have  you  no  relatives  living  with  you  V  asked  Marion 
"  Not  one.  I  have  done  with  them,  and  they  witli  me.  Not 
a  soul  lives  with  me  except  my  servants  and  my  live  stock.  I 
have  many  acquaintances  who  call  upon  me,  but  they  are  of 
the  highest  character.  Mr.  Monck,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to 
have  you  call  and  see  me  whenever  it  is  convenient.  1  am 
rarely  out.  If  I  have  company,  it  need  not  discompose  you. 
I  shall  have  a  parlor  for  you,  no  matter  how  many  may  be  in 
the  house.  I  never  show  one  of  my  visitors  into  the  same 
parldr  where  there  is  another,"  remarked  Mrs.  Woodruff, 
proudly. 

Marion  thought  thi*  was  a  queer  sort  of  woman  ;  but  as  she 
was  rich,  she  had  a  right  to   be   as   eccentric   as   she  pleased. 
He  answered,  that  he  should  avail  himself  of  her  kind  invitation. 
"  One  word  more.     When  you  wish  to  ride,   I  have   a   car- 
riage and  servants  at  your  disposal.     My  stable   and   carriage- 
house  are  in  the  rear  of  my  house  in  Bond  street.     I  hope  you 
go  to  church,"  was  the  word  more  of  Mrs.  W. 
"  Occasionally,"  replied  Marion. 

'•You  ought  to  go  every  Sunday.  Religion  is  an  excellent 
thing  for  a  young  man  or  woman.  It  keeps  the  minds  of  both 
occupied  and  out  of  mischief.  Will  you  go  to  church  with  me 
next  Sunday  1" 


120  VIGOR. 

"  What  church  ?"  asked  Marion. 

"  I  own  a  pew  in  Grace  Church,  down  Broadway,  corner  of 
Rector.  We  will  ride  down  in  my  own  carriage.  Dr.  Wain- 
wright  is  my  pastor,"  said  Mrs.  W. 

"  Nothing  will  give  me  more  pleasure.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Nord- 
hcim" observed  Marion  Monck. 

"  Stop,  stop.  I  never  ask  women  to  go  with  me  anywhere. 
I  shall  be  happy  to  have  you  go.  You  will  be  obliged  to  re- 
turn without  me,  as  it  is  sacrament  Sunday,  and  I  always  stop 
to  partake  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  Who  is  that  gentleman  con- 
versing with  Mrs.  Thomas  Granville  ?"  said  Mrs.  Woodruff. 

"  That  ?     Why,  that  is  the  Count  Falsechinski." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  him.    I  am  anxious  to  know  his  history." 

Marion  complied  with  her  request,  and  told  her  all  he  knew 
of  the  Count,  except  one  or  two  matters  that  he  had  no  right 
to  tell. 

"Thank  you;  thank  you.  Now  will  you  do  me  one  favor 
more  ?  Bring  the  Count  here  and  introduce  him  to  me." 

Marion  stepped  across  the  room,  and,  after  talking  a  few 
moments  to  the  eager  Count,  telling  him  about  the  rich  lady 
next  door,  and  so  forth,  he  took  his  arm  and  brought  him  over. 
"  Madam  Woodruff,  allow  me  to  present  to  you  my  noble  friend 
the  Count  Falsechinski.  I  will  leave  him  with  you." 

The  Count  became  almost  excruciatingly  polite.  He  bowed 
almost  to  his  knees,  and  placed  one  hand  on  his  heart  while  he 
declared  that  he  was  perfectly  overwhelmed  with  bliss  at  be- 
coming acquainted  with  so  perfect  a  lady — that  she  reminded 
him  of  his  siater  (he  was  too  polite  to  say  mother,)  the  Princess 
Sophinski,  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Warsaw  before  the  re- 
cent revolution.  All  the  extra  touches  were  put  on  by  the 
Count. 

"  No  more.  No  more,  Count.  I  cannot  bear  it.  There — 
stop  and  sit  right  down,  or  you  will  hurt  yourself."  The  Count 
took  a  seat  by  her  side.  "  There,  that  is  right.  You  are  a 
dear  good  Count,  and  we  shall  like  each  other  much,  when  we 
are  better  acquainted." 

What  passed  after  that  between  the  two  last-named  persons 
it  is  not  necessary  to  recount.  Suffice  it  to  say  here,  that  Mrs. 
Woodruff  showed  the  same  anxiety  about  the  piety  of  the 
Count,  and  repeated  the  same  invitation  she  had  given  to 
Marion.  She  also  spoke  of  remaining  to  the  sacrament,  and 
the  Count  said  he  could  not  possibly  permit  that,  unless  he 
also  remained  with  her, 


VIGOR.  .       121 

"  But  do  you  wish  to  partake  of  the  sacrament,  Count  ?" 
she  asked  earnestly. 

"  Nothing,  I  assure  my  dear  madam,  would  give  me  more 
pleasure.  Rather  than  part  with  your  dear  company,  I  would 
partake  of  any  thing." 

Here  supper  was  announced,  and  the  Count  offered  his  arm 
and  escort.  The  other  quests  were  suitably  arranged,  and  be- 
fore ten  o'clock  all  were  at  the  supper-table,  and  ere  midnight 
the  regular  occupants  of  the  house  were  left  in  it  alone. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

Aliss  Norrix  and  her  Teacher  of  Languages—  She  Threatens  Mr.  Nordheim 
— Gives  the  Count  a  Fearful  If>story  of  the  Antecedents  of  Mrs.  Woodruff 
—  The  Value  of  Mr.  Ctdar's  Note  or  Draft  upon  his  Publishers— Doctor 
Carnochan—2'he  Dfftrence  betwi.cn  a  Ge-inan  at,d  a  Dutchman, 

NOT  many  days  after  the  party  in  Bond  street,  the  Count 
Falsechinski  called  in  Broome  street  to  give  a  lesson  in  Ger- 
man to  Miss  Norris.  lie  found  Tom  Granville  there. 

"  Tom,"  said  Clara,  "I  wish  to  see  the  Count  alone  this 
morning — so  be  so  obliging  and  take  yourself  somewhere  else. 
Money  you  cannot  get  from  me  to-day,  nor  to-morrow,  either — 
it  would  do  you  no  good.  Go  to  your  brother." 

"  But  you  have  money  of  mine  in  " — commenced  poor  Tom. 

"  Stop — no  more  of  that,  or  I  wiil  forbid  you  the  house.  I 
do  not  owe  you  a  dollar.  You  put  some  in  my  hands,  but  you 
have  drawn  it  all,"  said  Clara. 

"  Surely  I  have  not  had  " — again  commenced  Tom. 

"  Never  mind  whether  you  have  had  it  or  not.  I  don't  keep 
accounts.  I  have  not  got  any  of  it,  and  if  you  have  not  spent 
it,  I  have,  so  there  is  no  more  to  be  said  about  it.  Now  go, 
that  is  a  good  boy,"  and  she  rose  and  gently  pushed  him  out 
of  the  room  and  locked  the  door.  "  Now,  Count,  I  have  got 
rid  of  that  poor  foolish  youth,  I  wish  to  talk  with  you.  You 
are  a  man.  I  understand  you  perfectly,  and  I  tell  you  can- 
didly, I  admire  you  very  much.  Hawks  must  not  pick  out 
hawks'  eyes.  So  you  were  at  the  party  at  Mrs.  Nordheim's  ? 
Never  say  a  word  until  I  finish.  Mr.  Nordheim  was  all  atten- 
tion to  Mrs.  Tom  Gra'.iville.  Don't  shake  your  head.  I  know 
better.  But  what  do  I  care  ?  As  long  as  he  allows  me  what 
I  need,  and  p^ys  me  regularly,  he  may  do  what  else  lie  pleases, 

6 


122  VIGOR. 

but  let  the  funds  stop  but  a  day,  an  hour,  ay,  a  quarter  of  a 
moment,  and  Mr.  Nordheim  and  me  part  company  forever.  Toll 
me  all  that  you  know  about  Mrs.  Woodruff.  ' 

This  was  a  subject  upon  which  the  Count  willingly  en- 
larged, and  he  gave  a  glowing  description  of  the  rich  widow, 
her  splendid  mansion,  coach,  servants  in  livery,  and  pew  in 
Grace  Church. 

"  Did  Mr.  Nordheim  speak  to  her  when  she  was  at  the  party 
of  his  wife  ?"  asked  Miss  Norris. 

"  I  don't  think  he  did.     No.     I  am  sure  he  did  not." 

"  The  arch  hypocrite  !  Did  Mrs.  Woodruff  become  person- 
ally acquainted  with  other  persons  at  the  party  beside  you  and 
my  friend  Marion  ?"  asked  Miss  Norris. 

"  Oh,  yes,  to  be  sure  ;  with  many,"  replied  the  Count. 

"  Name  them,  every  one,  male  and  female,"  said  Clara. 

"  She  talked  with  Miss  Irene  Grasper,  with  Mrs.  Parker, 
and  her  niece,  Miss  Julia,  and  she  was  also  introduced  to  Mr. 
Doemall,  an  Irish  gentleman.  Some  say  he  is  a  peer,"  re- 
plied the  Count. 

"  Are  those  all  ?"  demanded  Miss  Norris. 

"Upon  my  honor,  Mademoiselle  Norris,  I  think  those  I  have 
named  are  all,"  was  the  Count's  reply. 

"  Count,  I  like  you.  I  wish  you  to  steer  clear  of  the  break- 
ers. May  I  confide  to  you  a  secret  for  your  own  good,  not 
mine  ?"  asked  Miss  Norris. 

"  You  may,"  replied  the  Count. 

"  You  say  Nordheim  did  not  appear  to  know  that  woman. 
He  lied  by  his  actions,  and  is  worse  than  I  dreamed  him  to  be, 
to  introduce  her  to  his  home,"  said  Clara. 

"He  did  not  invite  her  there.  'It  was -done  without  the 
knowledge  of  Mr.  Nordheim.  I  know  that  to  be  a  fact.  I  had 
it  from  Marion,  and  he  will  not  lie." 

"  That  is  true,  and  Nordheim  is  not  quite  so  black  as  I 
thought  him  to  be.  Count,  listen  to  me,  but  never  repeat  it. 
Use  the  knowledge  for  your  own  purposes,  but  do  not.  use  it  to 
save  others.  Count,  you  know  that  I  was  bought  by  Nordheim 
and  brought  to  the  city.  You  do  not  know,  but  now  I  will  tell 
you,  the  first  week  that  I  spent  in  New  York,  before  this  house 
was  ready  for  me,  I  spent  in  that  luxurious  mansion  now,  as 
then,  occupied  by  Mrs.  Woodruff." 

The  Count  did  not  trust  himself  to  speak  for  several  mo- 
ments. His  eyes  were  busily  engaged  upon  the  rich  flowers 
of  the  tapestry  carpet  that  covered  the  floor. 


VIGOR.  123 

"  That  carpet  cost  four  dollars  a  yard,  Count.  You  need 
not  examine  its  texture  more  closely." 

The  Count  smiled. 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  am  too  astounded  to  say  any  thing.  What 
a  game  my  lady  Woodruff  must  be  playing  ?" 

"  She  is  a  fearful — a  terrible  female,  Count.  Tt  is  real 
friendship  for  you  that  has  made  me  open  your  eyes.  She  is 
the  more  to  be  dreaded  because  she  moves  in  the  very  highest 
circles,  and  spreads  devastation  wholesale.  Count,  for  some 
purpose  you  are  saving  money  with  all  a  miser's  eagerness. 
Don't  look  so  astonished.  I  know  it.  A  little  bird  tells  me 
all  that  you  do.  I,  too,  am  saving  money.  For  what  purpose 
I  know  not,  but  this  I  do  know,  the  power  of  money.  I  will 
never  be  poor  again  while  there  are  gulls  and  pigeons  to  bo 
plucked.  Use  the  information  I  have  given  you.  Show  this 
pious  lady  that  you  at  least  know  her,  and  make  her  pay — pay 
— that's  the  word — if  she  uses  you.  As  you  regard  me, 
breathe  not  a  word  if  you  were  to  see  your  best  friend's  wife 
going  into  those  double  hall  doors  in  Bond  street,"  said  Clara. 

"  I  thank  you,  Mademoiselle  Clara,  a  million  of  times.  I 
will  make  that  lady  pay  before  she  has  done  with  me.  You 
shall  see  what  you  shall  see  before  the  play  is  over.  Now  for 
the  German  lesson.  You  will  need  but  three  or  four  more, 
and  then  you  will  speak  English,  French,  Spanish  and  Ger- 
man. The  next  shall  be  the  Italian,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,  Count.  Italian  next.  Answer  me  one  question.  Tell 
me  what  you  think  of  the  intrigue  between  Mr.  Nordheim  and 
Mrs.  Tom  Granville.  Tell  me  honestly  and  truly.  You  are  a 
man  of  the  world.  Will  that  lady  succumb  to  the  infamous 
man  ?" 

"No.  Upon  my  soul.  She  is  too  clever — too  spirituelle. 
He  pays  her  money — largely,  too.  I  know  that.  Five  hundred 
— one  thousand.  But — she  takes  it — is  civil — goes  with  him 
all  about,  but,  lady — that  Mrs.  Granville  loves  her  husband. 
It  is  true,  and  she  is  honest." 

"  A  precious  pup  for  a  sensible  man  to  love,  and  yet,  poor 
Tom,  he  is  a  delightful,  harmless  fellow.  I  do  not  think  Tom 
would  hurt  a  chicken.  No  ;  not  a  fly.  But  he  does  not  know 
the  value  of  money.  I  gave  him  fifty  dollars  one  morning  last 
week,  and  what  do  you  think  he  did  that  evening  1  Came  to 
me  for  more.  It  is  true,  and  when  I  asked  what  on  earth  he 
had  done  with  it,  he  pulled  from  it  a  note  of  that  precious 
scamp  Cedar's  for  sixty  dollars,  and  told  me  had  made  ten 
dollars  by  cashing  it,"  said  Clara. 


124  VIGOR. 

"  Mr.  Cedar's  note  is  not,  then,  worth  much  ?"  asked  the 
alarmed  Count. 

"  Not  worth  so  much  as  the  paper  was  before  he  wrote  his 
name  upon  it.  Beware  of  that  English  genius,  Count,"  ob- 
served Miss  Norris. 

"  I  will  take  care  of  him,  and  thank  you,  too,  for  had  you  not 
told  me  this,  I  should  have  given  him  two  hundred  dollars  for 
his  draft  upon  his  publishers  for  two  hundred  and  fifty,"  said 
the  Count. 

"  And  you  would  have  lost  every  cent.  I  .don't  think  his 
publishers  owe  him  a  penny.  Yet  that  man  would  challenge 
you  if  you  dared  insinuate  that  he  was  any  thing  but  au  hon- 
orable man.  Count,  is  not  this  a  very  queer  world  ?''  sarcas- 
tically observed  Miss  Norris. 

"  The  people  in  it  are  very  queer — a  very  curious  people. 
Mademoiselle,  tell  me  about  Doctor  Carnochan." 

"  lie  is  a  young  man  of  decided  talent,  and  he  will  one  day 
rise  to  the  very  head  of  his  profession,  if  he  lives.  He  has  it 
in  him.  At  present  he  is,  from  the  force  of  circumstances,  a 
wild,  dissipated,  useless  man,  and  his  companions  are  of  the 
most  worthless  class.  Does  he  want  money  of  you,  too, 
Count  ?"  asked  Miss  Norris. 

"  No.  But.it  may  be  in  my  power  to  throw  some  practice  in 
his  way/'  kindly  added  the  Count. 

"  Do  so  if  you  can,  Count.  He  will  earn  more  than  the 
usual  fee  as  compared  with  other  doctors.  Tell  me  how  Ma- 
rion Monck  gets  on  with  his  languages,"  asked  the  lady. 

"  He  has  already  mastered  several  of  the  most  difficult.  His 
parents  were  Dutch,  so  that  it  came  natural  to  him  to  acquire 
the  German,  which  is  a  sort  of  first  cousin  to  low  Dutch." 

"  What  is  the  difference  between  German  and  low  Dutch  ?" 
asked  Clara. 

"  The  German,  or  Hoch  Deutsch,  is  spoken  all  through  Ger- 
many. The  Neder  Detitch,  or  Low  Dutch,  is  the  language  of 
the  Hollanders,  or  the  Ncderlanders,  which,  in  English,  is  low- 
landers,  in  contradistinction  to  the  Hoch  Deutsch  or  high  Ger- 
mans— or  rather  high-land  Dutchmen.  Now  shall  we  proceed 
with  your  German  lesson  ?" 

"  With  pleasure,  Count,"  was  her  reply. 

An  hour  afterward  the  Count  sent  a  note  from  th?\  office  to 
Mrs.  Woodruff. 


VIGOR.  125 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Harrison  Street — Colonel  Mac  Neil's  private  Home — M>ss  McPherson  and  lif.r 
two  Children — A  Breakfast  Scene  with  Wdly  and  Patsy — The  Colonel  set- 
tles a  House  on  his  Children,  and  places  two  thousand  dollars  in  the  Savings 
Bank  for  them — Redeeming  traits  in  a  Fashionable  Bud  Man's  character. 

SUCH  of  our  readers  as  are  familiar  with  New  York,  will  re- 
member a  street  in  the  lower  part  of  the  town,  running  from 
Hudson  street  to  the  North  river,  named  Harrison  street.  As 
it  was  known  a  hundred  years  ago  by  the  saiuo  name,  it  could 
not  have  been  named  after  our  General  Harrison,  or  more  re- 
cently President  Harrison,  but  must  have  honored  some  Eng- 
lish family.  Be  this  as  it  may,  in  this  same  street,  at  No.  27, 
the  first  door  from  Greenwich  street,  stands  or  did  stand  a 
small  two  story  brick  house.  It  rented  for  three  hundred  dol- 
lars a  year,  and  was  occupied  by  two  families.  The  lower  part, 
save  a  back  kitchen,  was  rented  by  a  worthy  butcher  and  his 
small  family,  while  the  upper  or  second  story  was  occupied  by 
a  lady  and  her  two  children,  one  a  boy  about  five  years  of  age, 
that  his  mother  called  William,  and  a  little  girl  three  years 
old,  with  the  pretty  cognomen  of  Patsy.  The  front  room  of  the 
second  story  was  plainly  but  comfortably  furnished  as  a  parlor. 
The  rear  room  contained  a  bed,  and  between  the  two  rooms 
was  a  third  small  room  in  which  was  placed  a  trundle  bed  for 
the  children.  It  was  a  cold  December  morning,  only  a  week 
after  the  party  at  Mrs.  Nordheim's  house  in  Bond  street,  when 
the  bell  rang  at  No.  27.  The  mother  of  the  two  children  had 
just  placed  their  and  her  simple  breakfast  upon  the  table  in  the 
small  back  kitchen  in  the  basement,  where  she  had  a  cooking 
stove  and  a  pantry.  This  also  was  a  portion  of  her  part  of  the 
house,  for  which  she  paid  an  annual  rent  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty  dollars.  The  bell  rang  a  second  time. 

"  Go  to  the  door,  Willie  ;  who  knows  but  it  is  your  papa  1 
It  sounds  like  his  ring." 

The  little  boy  was  off  like  a  rocket,  and  in  a  moment  after- 
ward a  heavy  footstep  was  heard  descending  the  kitchen  stairs. 
He  entered  the  room  with  the  boy  in  his  arms,  and  placed  him 
on  his  feet ;  and  then  the  lady  flung  herself  in  the  gentleman's 


12()  VIGOR. 

arms,  uttering  but  one  word,  "  William  !"  He  gently  displaced 
the  lady,  and  then  took  up  the  little  girl,  and  kissed  her  fondly. 

"  I  am  just  in  time  for  breakfast,  Jane,  eh  ?"  and  he  took  a 
seat. 

"  0  William,  if  we  had  but  known  you  were  coming — we 
have  not  a  breakfast'fit  for  you  to  eat,"  observed  Jane. 

"  Don't  you  and  the  children  eat  that  breakfast1?  and  if  so, 
is  it  not  good  enough  for  me  ?"  asked  Ool.  Mac  Neil. 

"  Don't  be  angry  with  me,  William — I  did  not  mean  any 
thing.  But  you,  who  are  so  used  to  living  at  hotels,  could 
hardly  expect  to'enjoy  such  a  breakfast  as  this.  But  why  have 
you  kept  away  so  long  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Business,  Jane.  Business,  pleasure,  every  thing.  But 
now  let  us  have  a  nice  breakfast.  Here  is  money — send  out 
and  get  any  thing  nice  that  you  c;m  find,"  observed  the  Colonel. 

"  I  will  go  myself,  if  you  will  mind  the  children  while  I  am 
gone,  Colonel,"  she  replied. 

"  That  I  will  do  with  pleasure  ;"  and  he  took  a  child  upon 
each  knee,  and  kissed,  caressed  and  played  alternately  with 
them  until  the  mother  returned.  It  was  not  long  before  the 
good  mother  had  a  very  choice  breakfast  smoking  on  the  table, 
and  all  partook  of  it,  while  the  father,  for  so  he  was,  of  those 
two  children  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost  to  make  a  pleasant 
time  of  it.  An  hour  elapsed  before  the  happy  family  had  fin- 
ished the  meal.  Then  the  gentleman,  who  was  no  other  than 
Colonel  William  Mac  Neil,  asked  if  there  was  a  fire  up  stairs. 
Receiving  a  reply  in  the  affirmative,  he  continued  :  "  Jane, 
send  Willy  and  Patsy  up  stairs — we  will  follow  presently  ;  but 
I  have  a  few  words  to  say  to  you  alone." 

The  children  went  up  stairs,  little  Willy  leading  by  the 
hand  the  tottersome  Patsy.  When  they  were  gone,  the  Colonel 
drew  out  a  segar  from  a  rich  shagreen  segar  case,  and  delibe- 
rately lit  it. 

"  Come  and  sit  down  by  me,  Jane." 

She  complied  in  silence,  her  looks  expressing  wonder  as  to 
what  was  to  come  next. 

"  Jane,  I  idolize  those  children.  I  wish  to  God  you  were 
my  legal  wife,  for  you  are  a  true-hearted,  loving  woman.  Don't 
cry,  darling,  but  listen  to  me.  You  think  I  could  easily  legal- 
ize them,  and  marry  you.  No,  no — that  is  a  dream  ;  it  is  too 
late — my  cursed  pride  will  not  let  roe  do  it.  That  is  not  all  ; 
I  must  marry  a  woman  who  has  money,  or  be  a  disgraced  bank- 
rupt. Yet,  you  iior  those  two  dear  children  shall  ever  want, 


VIGOR.  127 

or  be  dependent  even  upon  me.  I  am  a  rascal,  Jane,  so  far  as 
you  are  concerned  :  I  know  it — I  feel  it.  But,  thank  God,  I 
Lave  placed  you  and  those  dear  ones  so  that  you  can  never 
want.  Are  you  listening  ?"  said  the  Colonel,  with  emotion. 

"  Surely,  Mac,  I  have  not  lost  a  word.  Go  on — I  hope  you 
have  nothing  worse  to  tell  me,"  she  observed. 

"  Jane,  I  have  saved  up  and  withdrawn  from  my  business 
seven  thousand  dollars,  and  with  it  I  have  purchased  arouse 
in  Franklin  street  near  Broadway.  The  lot  is  twenty-five  feet 
by  one  hundred,  and  sixteen  years  hence,  when  Willy  is  of 
age,  that  property  will  be  double  or  treble  in  value.  I  have 
deeded  it  to  you,  Jane  McPherson,  in  trust  for  Willy  and 
Patsy.  The  house  is  a  good  one,  and  now  rents  for  six  hun- 
dred and  fifty  duliars  per  annum,  and  has  a  good  tenant.  That 
rent  you  must  draw  and  live  on,  in  case  I  am  unable  to  do  any 
thing  more  for  you.  That  is  not  all.  Here  is  two  thousand 
duliars  that  I  won  in  gambling  some  time  ago.  It  is  but  a  par- 
tial return  of  ten  times  that  amount  that  I  have  lost  at  gam- 
bling. It  is  yours — take  it  to  a  Savings  Bank,  and  place  it 
there  at  interest  in  your  own  or  in  Willy's  name — your  own 
is  better,  and  then  you  will  have  two  sources  of  income." 

The  poor  young  mother  was  weeping.  "  0  Mac — dear  Mac, 
why  do  you  do  this  ?  Are  you  going  away  ?  I  don't  want  it ; 
you  allow  us  all  we  want !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Listen,  Jane.  When  I  signed  that  deed,  1  had  deter- 
mined to  offer  myself  that  night  to  a  very  wealthy  young  lady. 
I  expected  to  be  accepted,  and  I  then  determined  to  act  hon- 
orably by  her  ;  and  to  do  so  I  intended  that  deed  as  a  pro- 
vision for  you  and  my  dear  children,  and  then  to  bid  you  fare- 
well, and  see  you  no  more,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  0  Mac,  could  you  have  the  heart  to  do  it1?  Could  you 
part  with  those  two  little  precious  ones,  and  never  see  them 
more  ?  0,  it  was  a  cruel  thought !"  said  Jane. 

"  Be  calm — I  am.  I  have  not  yet  done.  I  offered  myself 
to  the  girl,  and  she  accepted  me.  Don't  start  off  in  that  man- 
ner. Then  I  saw  her  father — one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  the 
city.  He  refused  to  countenance  the  marriage,  and  what  was 
still  more,  situated  as  I  am,  he  swore  before  God  that  if  his 
daughter  married  me,  she  should  never  receive  a  cent.  He 
had  heard  of  our  affairs — of  our  children,  Jane,  and  he  said  he 
did  not  thick  I  could  support  two  families.  That  was  quite 
enough  for  me,  Jane.  The  affair  is  at  an  end,  and  I  shall  pro- 
bably never  marry." 


128  VIGOR. 

The  mother  flung  herself  into  his  arras,  and  kissed  the  Col- 
onel in  the  most  fond  manner. 

"  Hear  me  out,  Jane,  and  know  the  worst.  I  have  secured 
you  from  want,  and  the  deed  is  irrevocable  ;  but  Heaven  only 
knows  how  soon  I  may  be  a  beggar.  The  affairs  of  my  firm  are 
in  a  terrible  state.  My  partner  thinks  that  he  can  carry  the 
concern  through.  He  is  buying  produce  on  credit,  and  ship- 
ping^t  to  Europe,  or  any  where  else  where  he  can  get  cash 
advances  upon  the  shipments.  If  those  shipments  turn  out 
well,  we  are  safe,  and  shall  keep  afloat.  If  not — but  I  don't 
dare  to  think  of  it.  This  thought  though  consoles  me — come 
what  will,  you  and  Willy  and  Patsy  are  provided  fur,"  contin- 
ued the  Colonel  feelingly. 

"  But,  dear  Mac,  if  this  would  serve  you,  I  will  deed  it  back 
to  you,  and  you  could  sell  it  again,  and  also  take  the  two  thou- 
sand dollars,"  observed  Jane. 

"  You  are  an  unselfish  being,  Jane — but  no,  no.  It  would 
not  be  a  drop  in  the  bucket.  Do  exactly  as  I  have  to  d  you, 
and  I  will  continue  to  give  you  what  funds  you  need,  just  as 
though  the  nine  thousand  dollar  provision  had  not  been  made. 
If  I  am  fortunate  and  get  through  my  own  difiiculties,  you  will 
have  the  interest  every  year  to  add  to  the  principal,  and  in  a 
few  years  you  will  have  quite  a  little  sum.  Now  kiss  me,  and 
then  let  us  go  up  stairs  and  join  Willy  and  Patsy.  After  all 
there  are  some  happy  moments  for  the  most  miserable,  and  I 
will  come  and  breakfast  with  you  soon  again,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Dear  Mac,  it  makes  the  children  so  happy." 

The  haughty  Colonel  Mac  Neil  played  and  romped  with  his 
children  until  dinner  was  ready,  and  then  he  diaed  with  them 
Before  evening  he  was  again  at  his  hotel. 

There  are  some  redeeming  traits  in  even  the  most  worldly 
of  men.  And  this  is  a  redeeming  chapter,  and  shall  stand  by 
itself.  • 


VIGOR.  129 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  Italian  Opera  House  in  Churrh  street— The  Character  of  the  Subscribers— 
Mr.  Nordheim  a  Director — A  Tragedy  Night — Mr.  Nordheim  insulin  a  la<ly 
in  the  Dress  Circle — iJis  Spectacles  driven  into  tiis  ey.s  by  a  Brother — His 
removal  1o  the  City  Hospital — Francis  G'tillaid  of  South  Carolina — Mr. 
Granville  dissolces  the  Jinn  of  Granville  Is,  Nordheim — T>>e  Notice — Lint  of 
the  Daily  Newspapers — Feelings  of  Mis*  Norrix — Her  Proposition  to  Torn 
Granville — The  Days  that  the  \Vifc  of  Mr.  Nordheim  spent  at  the  Hosjri- 
tul  with  her  dying  husband — Nordheim's  Will — Ilia  Death  and  Funeral. 

IN  the  year  183 — ,  a  company  of  persons  who  would  be  ex- 
tremely exclusive,  determined  to  put  up  a  building  and  open 
an  Italian  Opera  House  in  this  city.  To  carry  out  their  de- 
sign, they  purchased  sufficient  ground  on  the  corner  of  Church 
and  Leonard  streets,  and  proceeded  to  put  up  a  large  and 
handsome  building.  When  this  Opera  House  was  finished,  an 
arrangement  was  made  for  a  manager,  and  a  regular  stock 
Italian  Opera  Company  was  established  in  New  York  city.  It 
was  a  mixod-up  sort  of  concern.  At  first  it  was  a  regular 
stock  company.  Then  private  boxes  were  disposed  of  to  par- 
ticular families  for  life,  in  order  to  raise  money  ;  and  then 
commenced  a  system  of  begging,  borrowing,  and  voluntary 
contributions,  until  all  hands  became  disgusted,  and  the  build- 
ing passed  from  the  opera  people  to  the  mortgagee,  and  he 
leased  it  for  a  regular  theatrQ  to  James  Wallack,  who  opened 
it  under  the  title  of  the  National  Theatre. 

But  to  return  to  the  Italian  crowd.  The  parties  who  got 
up  the  Italian  opera  were  not  the  old  Knickerbocker  stock  in- 
habitants. They  were  a  parvenu  population — people  who  had 
been  successful  as  brokers,  merchants,  stock  gamblers,  real 
estate  speculators,  and  other  modes  by  which  fortunes  are  sud- 
denly accumulated  in  this  great  metropolis.  Many  of  the 
parties  had  travelled  in  Europe  to  acquire  business,  and  form 
commercial  connexions.  They  had  visited  Paris  and  London, 
and  perceiving  how  aristocratic  the  Italian  opera  was  in  those 
cities,  they  considered  that  to  become  interested  in  an  Italian 
opera  in  New  York  would  give  them  an  aristocratic  position 
These  were  the  motives  that  actuated  most  of  the  patrons  of 


'130  VIGOE. 

the  early  Italian  opera  in  New  York.  It  is  needless  to  say 
that  they  paid  dear  for  the  Italian  whistle,  and  it  got  broken 
in  a  very  short  period  of  time. 

Among  those  who  took  a  very  active  part  in  the  Italian  ope- 
ra was  Mr.  Nordheim.  He  spoke  Italian  fluently,  and  he  was 
not  only  allowed  to  spend  his  money  in  the  enterprise  without 
stint,  but  he  was  also  permitted  to  take  a  very  active  part  in 
the  details.  The  Finance  Committee  knew  no  more  about  Ita- 
lian than  they  did  about  Greek,  and  Mr.  Nordheim  translated 
between  the  false  Italian  Prince  and  Princess  actors,  and  their 
Wall  street  financiers. 

The  Italian  opera  opened  during  the  month  of  the  party  at 
Mrs.  Nordheim's,  and  Mr.  Nordheim  placed  at  his  wife's  dis- 
posal a  private  box,  and  she  filled  it  almost  every  night  with 
some  of  her  friends.  She  was  generally  attended  thither  by 
Mr.  Wilson  or  Marion — sometimes  by  both.  The  Count 
Falsechinski  received  tickets  frequently  for  Miss  Norris  and 
himself,  and  occasionally  Tom  Granville  made  up  a  party  for 
one  of  the  front  seats  in  the  dress  circle.  It  was  April.  The 
bill  for  that  night  was  very  attractive.  Mrs.  Nordheim  was  in 
her  private  box  with  a  party.  Marion  Monck  was  there  also — 
and  so  was  Isabella  Granvile.  On  the  right  side  of  the  dresa 
circle,  Miss  Norris,  with  the  Count  and  Tom  Granville,  occu- 
pied three  seats. 

Shortly  after  the  curtain  rose,  Mr.  Nordheim  was  seen  to 
enter  the  dress  circle  by  a  door  directly  opposite  the  centre 
of  the  building.  He  took  a  seat  on  the  third  bench.  Directly 
in  front  of  him  was  a  gentleman  accompanied  by  a  lady  of 
rare  and  surpassing  beauty.  It  was  noticed  by  those  in  the 
neighborhood  that  Mr.  Nordheim  endeavored  to  attract  the  no- 
tice of  the  beautiful  woman  who  occupied  the  seat  directly  in 
front  of  him.  Once  she  turned  Her  head  almost  around,  and 
gazed  at  him  with  an  expression  that  denoted  the  most  violent 
anger,  and  then  seemed  absorbed  with  what  was  passing  on 
the  stage. 

I  may  have  omitted  to  mention  that  Mr.  Nordheim  was  near- 
sighted, and  wore  gold  spectacles.  He  never  was  without 
them.  Hundreds  who  were  present  that  eventful  evening, 
well  remember  the  fearful  scream  of  agony  which  rung 
through  that  Opera  House,  although  the  extent  of  the  tragedy 
in  the  dress  circle  was  not  dreamed  of  that  night.  Again  that 
lady  turned  and  looked  indignantly  at  Mr.  Nordheim,  who 
smiled  and  partly  bowed.  It  was  noticed  that  the  lady  whis- 
pered to  the  gentleman  with  her.  She  quietly  informed  him 


VIGOR.  13 1 

that  the  person  on  the  rear  seat  had  put  his  hand  upon  her  per- 
son in  an  improper  manner. 

"  Can  you  point  him  out  to  me  distinctly  ?"  whispered  the 
brother — for  so  he  proved  to  be. 

"  Yes,  Frank,  he  is  seated  directly  behind  me,  with  his 
knees  upon  the  seat  where  I  am  sitting.  Frank,  he  has 
pinched  me  behind  again  !"  . 

"  Keep  perfectly  quiet,  Emily — don*t  move,"  and  as  he 
said  this  he  rose  io  his  feet,  turned  his  back  to  the  stage  so  as 
to  face  Nordheim,  and  rapidly  drew  back  his  arm,  and  with 
all  his  force  struck  his  fist  directly  in  Nordheim's  right  eye. 
There  was  one  terrific  scream.  The  glass  had  broken,  and  the 
force  of  the  blow  had  driven  several  of  the  particles  into  the 
right  eye  of  the  unfortunate  Nordheim.  There  was  an  instant 
rush,  and  much  confusion.  The  gentlemen  remained  perfectly 
calm  and  did  not  move  an  inch.  Nordheim  had  fainted  with 
the  intense  agony  from  the  pierced  eyeball.  Shouts  arose  from 
the  parterre. — "  Turn  him  out !"  The  gallery  re-echoed  "  Turn 
him  out !"  Meanwhile  Marion  Monck,  the  Count,  and  some 
others  of  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Nordheim,  hurried  to  the 
spot,  just  as  he  had  been  carried  out  of  the  boxes.  They  all 
saw  at  once  the  nature  of  the  wound.  Then  the  gentleman 
who  had  inflicted  it  came  out  and  explained  what  had  occurred 
—  regretting  that  he  had  inflicted  so  terrible  a  punishment.  A 
carriage  was  procured.  By  this  time  Pitt  Granville  had 
learned  what  had  occurred.  "  Take  him  at  once  to  the  New 
York  Hospital,"  was  his  peremptory  order.  Mr.  Nordheim 
was  with  difficulty  placed  in  the  carriage.  His  agony  was  fear- 
ful. 

"  Go  and  tell  Mrs.  Nordheim  what  has  happened,  and  take 
her  home,  Marion.  I  will  be  up  there  as  soon  as  Nordheim  is 
better  or  worse.  The  hospital  is  the  only  place,  for  he  needs 
immediate  surgical  aid.  Mr.  Wilson,  go  with  me." 

These  sensible  orders  of  Pitt  Granville  were  rapidly  carried 
into  execution,  and  the  carriage  drove  around  to  the  hospital 
gate.  Mr.  Roberts,  the  Superintendent,  was  an  old  friend  of 
Mr.  Granville,  and  luckily  happened  to  be  in  the  office.  A 
proper  room  was  instantly  arranged,  and  Mr.  Nordheim  was 
taken  into  it.  Then  the  leading  surgeons  were  sent  for.  They 
tried  to  extract  the  broken  pieces  of  glass,  but  only  partially 
succeeded.  Mr.  Nordheim  was  a  raving  maniac. 

But  I  must  carry  back  my  readers  to  the  Opera  House. 
When  Mrs.  Nordheim  had  learned  tire  particulars  of  the  acci- 
dent, she  refused  to  go  home,  but  left  her  party,  and  with 


132  VIGOR. 

Marion  went  directly  to  the  hospital  inner  gate,  where  the 
little  house  of  the  gate-keeper  is,  and  asked  permission  to  go 
in  and  see  her  husband.  She  was  refused — politely  but  posi- 
tively— and  she  at  once  got  into  a  carriage  and  went  home  to 
Bond  street.  Soon  after,  a  gentleman  appeared  at  the  gate 
and  asked  permission  to  see  one  of  the  officers  of  the  hospital. 
Be  was  shown  inside  to  Mr.  Koberts. 

"  Here  is  my  card,  'sir.  I  am  the  person  who  struck  the 
blow  at  the  opera." 

Mr.  Roberts  took  the  card  and  read,  "  Francis  Gaillard,  at 
Mrs.  Mann's,  No.  85  Broadway." 

"  The  accident,  sir,  I  fear  will  terminate  seriously,  and  I 
will  uso  this  card,  as  you  may  be  called  upon  to  give  some 
explanation.  How  did  it  happen  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Roberts. 

The  stranger,  whose  name  was  Gaillard,  replied,  "  I  am  a 
South  Carolinian,  on  a  visit  here  with  my  mother  and  sister.  I 
took  my  sister  to  the  Italian  opera  this  evening.  After  the 
performance  had  commenced,  she  told  me  that  a  person  on  the 
seat  behind  her  had  insulted  her,  and  I  at  once  struck  him." 

"  Served  the  d libertine   right,"  was  the  only  comment 

made  by  the  indignant  but  honest  Mr.  Roberts. 

"  I  took  my  sister  to  Mrs.  Mann's  boarding-house,  and 
came  at  once  to  give  myself  up  in  case  of  need.  Will  it  be 
necessary  for  me  to  do  any  thing  more  ?" 

"  No.  Go  home  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  If  he 
dies  to-night,  or  within  a  few  days,  a  coroner's  inquest  will  be 
held,  and  you  will  have  to  be  on  hand  ;  but  it  is  a  disgraceful 
affair,  and  unless  Nordheim  dies  immediately  it  will  be  hushed 
up.  Good  night." 

"  Thank  you — good  night,"  and  the  stranger  Gaillard  passed 
out  of  the  hospital. 

The  Count  conveyed  the  horrified  Clara  Norris  to  Broome 
street,  and  then  left  her,  promising  to  return  as  soon  as  he  had 
paid  a  visit  to  the  hospital.  He,  too,  was  refused  admission, 
but  as  he  was  passing  out  of  the  gate  he  was  overtaken  by  Mr. 
Pitt  Granville  and  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  Count,  go  at  once  to  Mr.  Nordheim's,  in  Bond  street,  see 
Marion  Monck,  get  the  keys  of  the  store,  and  come  directly  to 
the  City  Hotel." 

The  Count  went  on  his  errand,  and  when  Pitt  Granville  and 
his  book-keeper  were  walking  alone,  the  former  said,  abruptly, 
"  Wilson,  this  sort  of  thing  has  got  to  be  stopped.  I  am  tired 
of  it.  Such  proceedings  by  one  of  the  members  of  a  mercan- 
tile firm  are  ruinous." 


VIGOR.  133 

"  I  think  so,  sir.  It  will  be  known  on  change  to-morrow, 
and  even  if  Mr.  Nordheim  gets  well,  I  don't  see  how  he  can 
explain  it." 

"  Explain.  There  is  no  explanation  needed.  I  can  put  up 
with  a  great  many  things,  but  this  is  a  beastly  concern  alto- 
gether. Come  what  will,  I  am  not  going  to  associate  with  him 
any  more  as  a  partner." 

"  But  how  are  you  to  end  the  partnership  ?  You  have  no 
right  to  " — asked  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean  ;  but  right  or  wrong,  you  will  see 
what  course  I  shall  pursue  under  the  present  painful  circum- 
stances. Wait  until  I  get  into  the  office.'1 

They  reached  the  City  Hotel,  and  Mr.  Granville  ordered 
whiskey  punch  for  himself  and  for  Mr.  Wilson.  They  finished 
the  first  glass,  and  then  Mr.  Granville  ordered  one  more  for 
himself,  as  Mr.  Wilson  refused,  and  he  requested  him  to  go 
and  find  Colonel  Benson,  and  meet  him  at  the  office  as  speedily 
as -possible.  Soon  after  the  Count  and  Marion  joined  him,  and 
all  proceeded  to  the  counting-house  in  Broad  street.  It  was 
opened.  Then  Colonel  Benson  and  Wilson  arrived.  Books 
were  got  out  of  the  safe.  Accounts  were  examined.  The  con- 
sultation was  held,  and  finally  Mr.  Granville  came  out  of  his 
private  office  with  a  paper  in  his  hand. 

"  Marion,  I  want  you  to  make  several  copies  of  this.  Take 
one  to  each  of  the  following  daily  papers  : — 

"  The  Daily  Mercantile  Advertiser, 
"  Gazette, 

Courier  and  Enquirer, 
"  Journal  of  Commerce, 

"  Standard, 

41  Post, 

"          Commercial, 
"  N.  Y.  American." 

Marion  complied.  The  next  morning  the  following  could 
have  been  read  in  either  of  the  five  morning  dailies  : 

"VTOTICE. — The  co-partnership  heretofore  existing  under  the  firm  of  Granvilie  * 
J^(  Nordheim  is  this  day  dissolved.  The  liquidation  of  the  affairs  of  the  latu  firm 
will  be  attended  to  by  the  undersigned,  who  will  continue  to  carry  on  a  General 
Commission  Business  under  his  own  name. 

\V.  PITT  GRANVILLE, 

At  No.  ol  Broad  street. 
NEW  YORK,  April  10, 1S3-. 

When  Marion  returned  from  the  publishing  offices  of  the 
morning  journals,  he  found  Mr.  Granville  and  Mr.  Wilson  in 
the  main  office.  The  Count  had  left.  So  had  Culonel  Benson. 


13  i  VIGOR. 

11  Have  you  put  those  advertisements  in  the  morning  pa. 
pers  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  was  in  time  with  all  of  them." 

"  When  you  go  home  tell  Mrs.  Nordheim  what  I  have  found 
it  necessary  to  do,  with  promptness,  to  save  the  credit  of  this 
concern.  She  can  appoint  you  or  Mr.  Wilson  to  act  for  her  in- 
terest, should  he  die.  He  may  recover  his  senses  enough  to 
make  a  will.  'If  he  does  not,  Mrs.  Nordheim  has  her  settle- 
ment of  two  thousand  dollars  a  year  to  fall  back  upon,  and  one- 
third  interest  in  his  property.  He  has  been  spending  a  fear- 
ful amount  of  money  lately,  and  Mr.  Wilson  'thinks  his  share 
of  the  profits  is  not  only  drawn  out,  but  also  a  large  portion  of 
his  stock  capital  in  the  concern.  -We  shall  know  in  a  few 
days." 

The  Count  Falsechinski,  when  he  left  the  office,  although  it 
was  nearly  midnight,  went  up  to  Broome  street.  He  found 
Miss  Norris  waiting  for  him.  Tom  Granville  was  there. 

"  Nordheinr  will  die,  or  be  insane  for  life,"  said  the  Count. 

"  Is  that  your  opinion,  Count  ?"  asked  Tom,  who  seemed 
pleased  at  the  idea. 

"  It  is.  The  firm  is  dissolved  by  Mr.  Granville,  and  notices 
to  that  effect  will  appear  in  all  the  daily  papers  to-morrow." 

"  Then  good-bye,  Ferdinand  Nordheim.  You  have  been  a 
source  of  good  and  a  curse  to  me.  Now  I  will  fight  my  own 
battles  and  play  my  own  game  in  life,  for  you  are  dead  so  far 
as  I  am  concerned  in  any  event.  Shall  we  make  up  a  card 
party  to-night  ?" 

"  Thank  you.  No.  I  must  get  home,  for  I  have  much  to 
do  to-morrow.  Are  you  walking  down  town,  Tom  1" 

"  No  ;  he  is  not  going  down  town  these  two  hours  yet,"  spoke 
Clara. 

She  showed  the  Count  to  the  door,  and  then  returned. 

"  This  is  a  funny  business,  all  round,  ain't  it,  Clara  ?"  said 
Tom. 

"  Tom  Granville,  answer  me  one  question.  You  have  stated 
to  me  that  you  believe  your  wife  and  Nordheim  were  engaged 
in  a  criminal  intimacy.  Answer  me  now,  as  God  will  be  your 
Judge.  Do  you,  in  your  inmost  soul,  believe  that  ?"  demanded 
Clara. 

"  I  do  solemnly,"  replied  the  husband  Tom. 

"  Why  do  you  not  take  steps  to  get  a  divorce  from  your 
•wife,  then,  if  you  believe  her  guilty  and  faithless  to  your  hon- 
or 1"  asked  Miss  Norris. 

"  Never.     I  have  loved  that  woman.    Perhaps  love  her  yet, 


VIGOR.  135 

but  I  will  never  take  any  steps  to  get  divorced  from  her,"  re- 
plied good-natured  Tom  Granville. 

"  Suppose  she,  however,  should  try  to  get  divorced  from  you. 
She  could  do  it,"  said  Miss  Norris. 

"  Let  her  do  so.     I  will  make  no  objection." 

"  Tom,  do  you  believe  I  have  been  true  to  my  master — to 
Nordheim  ?"  asked  Clara. 

"  I  do.     I  know  I  can  speak  for  myself,  Clara,"  said  Tom, 

"  Tom,  it  is  true.     I  have  been  as  faithful  to  that  man  as  if  , 
I  had  been  his  wedded  wife,  but  it  is  all  over  now.     He  is.  no 
more  to  me  than  if  he  was  dead.     His  money  is  gone,   even  if 
he  lives.     He  has  been  fearfully  extravagant.      You   say   that 
you  will  never  live  with  your  wife  again  ?"  said  Clara. 

"  Never,"  replied  Tom  Granville. 

"  Will  you  live  here,  Tom  ?  and  devote  yourself  to  my  com- 
fort ?  Go  with  me  when  I  go  out  ?  I  need  a  protector.  I 
will  pay  for  one,  but  no  nonsense  with  me.  No  jealousy,  or 
any  thing  of  that  sort.  I  will  be  as  free  as  a  bird,  go  and  come 
when  I  please,  see  T»hom  I  please,  dance,  fliht,  coquette,  or 
play  the  fool  with  whom  I  please,  and  you  are  not  to  open  your 
lips.  I  like  you,  but  1  don't  love  you.  You  are  amusing — a 
gentleman — and  you  shall  have  the  means  to  carry  on  the  war 
as  such.  You  don't  keep  me.  I  keep  you.  Do  you  agree  to 
these  conditions  ?  and  have  you  force  of  character  enough  to 
stick  to  them  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  have,  Clara,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Very  well.     Our  bargain  is  made,  but  mark  me,  the   very 

first  moment  you  deviate  from  our  understanding,  or  show  any 

jealousy,  or  any  dislike  to  my   being  intimate   with    whom    I 

please,  that  moment  we  part.     Now  you  may  kiss  me,  and  seal 

.    the  bargain,"  she  pleasantly  remarked. 

Poor  easy,  good-natured  Tom  Grauville.  Little  did  you 
dream,  whem  completing  this  arrangement,  that  you  were  sign- 
ing the  death-warrant  for  your  future  hopes  of  earthly  domes- 
tic happiness,  and  degrading  yourself  to  the  lowest  of  mankind 
— the  kept  man  <_f  a  fancy  woman  !  Leaving  these  worldly 
ones,  our  reader  will  go  with  us  to  the  hospital.  Nordheim  be- 
came worse  and  worse.  The  next  day  his  wife  spent  several 
hours  by  his  bedside.  He  did  not  recognize  her.  Day  after 
day  she  visited  him,  until  the  inflammation,  which  had  reached 
his  brain,  became  so  certain  of  ending  fatally,  that  a  lawyer, 
Charles  S.  Spencer,  was  employed  to  remain  with  him  con- 
stantly, under  the  hope  that  he  might  become  sane  for  a  few 
moments  ere  he  died.  Two  weeks  after  the  accident,  his  wife 


136  VIGOR. 

called,  and  found  him,  for  the  first  time,  perfectly  conscious  of 
every  thing  around  him.  His  partner  was  sent  for.  The  law- 
yer asked  the  Physician  Surgeon  how  long  he  might  live. 

"  Until  evening." 

Then  occurred  a  painful  scene — a  death-bed  repentance.  He 
dictated  a  will.  It  was  short.  He  left  all  to  his  wife.  All — 
every  thing.  Except  the  furniture  of  the  Jiouse  in  which 
Clara  Norris  lived,  that  he  gave  to  her,  and  also  five  hundred 
dollars.  He  signed  articles  dissolving  the  firm,  and  authorizing 
his  wife  to  close  up  the  affairs  as  best  suited  herself,  and  he 
made  Mr.  Granville  give  a  solemn  promise  that  in  case  his  half 
interest  in  the  concern  should  not  leave  a  respectable  sum  for 
his  wife,  that  he  would  give  her  one-third  interest  in  the  future 
business,  or  take  into  partnership  any  one  she  should  desig- 
nate. Frank  Gaillard  was  sent  for.  When  he  reached  the 
bed  of  the  dying  man  he  was  much  agitated,  and  expressed  the 
deepest  regret  for  what  had  occurred. 

"  Not  a  word  more.  You  served  me  right.  Tell  your  sis- 
ter that  a  dying  man  begs  her  forgiveness^  for  the  outrage  he 
committed." 

Mr.  Nordheim  lingered  on  through  the  day,  but  just  after 
sunset,  when  twilight  was  deepening  into  dark  over  the  trees 
and  around  the  old  hospital  windows,  Nordheim  sank  into  what 
appeared  a  gentle  sleep.  Mr.  Granville  first  discovered  that 
he  was  dead.  Mrs.  Nordheim  pressed  her  lips  to  the  dead 
man,  and  was  then  led  out  of  the  room  That  night  the  coffin 
containing  his  body  was  conveyed  to  Bond  street.  The  suc- 
ceeding day  it  was  transferred  to  a  cemetery,  and  the  trou- 
bles, the  pleasures,  the  rascalities,  and  the  redeeming  qualities 
of  the  unfortunate  Nordheim  were  over  forever. 


CHAPTER    XXYI. 

New  Street  thirty  years  ago — The  store  of  Mr  John  ODoemall — His  Business 
—  The  Debt  of  three  hundred  and  j'onr  dollars  and  seventy-two  cents,  and 
how  it  was  liquidated — Mr.  Granville's  Instructions — The  Story  of  the  Irish- 
woman, and  how  O'Doemall  victimized  her  out  of  seventy-two  dollars'  worth 
of  shirts,  and  ruined  her  sister  and  husband — A  Bad  Character. 

BETWEEN  Broadway  and  Broad  street,  running  from  Wall 
to  Beaver,  is  a  little  narrow  street  called  the  New  street,  al- 
though it  is  one  of  the  oldest  streets  in  the  city.  Thirty  years 
ago  it  seemed  to  be  used  for  no  other  purpose  than  for  an  alley 


VIGOR.  137 

to  the  two  main  streets  of  Broadway  or  Broad.  A  sort  of 
sewer  ran  through  it.  Some  of  the  houses  on  Broadway  had 
stables  in  the  rear,  facing  on  New  strep},.  An  occasional  dwel- 
ling house  occupied  by  French  dry  goods  importers  on  Broad 
had  a  solid  stone  warehouse  on  New  street.  No.  20  New 
street  was  used  as  a  building  of  that  description.  The  walls 
were  two  feet  thick,  with  small  windows,  closed  by  two  straight 
iron  bars  and  an  iron  shutter.  On  this  store  was  a  large  sign, 
"John  O'Doemall,  Wine  Merchant"  There  was  an  office  in 
the  rear  on  the  first  floor.  In  it  was  one  desk.  The  floor 
contained  eight,  or  perhaps  ten  gin  pipes,  whiskey  puncheons, 
and  a  pile  of  champagne  baskets.  All  were  empty.  In  the 
office  was  a  plain  table,  and  upon  it  was  a  couple  of  wine 
glasses,  two  glass  tumblers,  and  some  sample  bottles.  Mr. 
O'Doemall  is  at  his  desk.  He  is  seated  in  .a  cushioned  arm- 
chair, with  one  leg  cocked  over  the  desk,  and  is  engaged  in 
reading  the  Courier  and  Enquirer. 

A  customer  enters.  Mr.  O'Doemall  drops  his  leg  and  re- 
moves the  paper  from  his  face. 

"  Oh,  ah,  my  friend  Marion  Monck.  Good  morning.  Real- 
ly, I  am  quite  happy  to  see  you.  Sit  down.  Take  a  seat. 
Where  is  my  clerk  ?  Here,  Thomas." 

But  the  aforesaid  Thomas,  the  clerk,  is  an  invisibility. 

"  I  have  called,  Mr.  O'Doemall,  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Gran- 
ville,  to  obtain  some  sort  of  a  settlement  with  you.  Mr. 
Nordheiui,  unbeknown  to  his  partner  at  the  time,  sold  you 
goods  to  the  extent  of  three  hundred  and  four  dollars  and 
odd  " — said  young  Monck. 

"  Exactly.  Three  hundred  and  four  dollars  and  seventy-two 
cents.  I  know  the  precise  amount.  A  mere  trifle,  which 
ought  to  have  been  paid  long  ago,  but  I  overlooked  it.  Surely, 
Mr.  Granville  would  nob  send  you  to  collect  so  small  an  amount 
as  that." 

"  He  did  so,  and  if  it  is  not  convenient  for  you  to  pay  the 
money,  he  would  like  to  have  you  give  your  note,  adding  the 
interest  for  ninety  days,  or  even  four  months." 

"  I  forgot  to  ask  you  how  Mrs.  Nordheim  is — poor  lady — 
great  misfortune.  Nordheim  was  a  good  fellow.  Queer.  If 
Nordheim  had  lived,  he  would  never  have  been  so  mean  as  to 
send  for  that  pitiful  sum.  How  do  you  know  but  what  I  have 
a  receipt  for  it  ?  In  fact,  I  don't  think  Ljan  pay  that  note. 
Nordheim  owes  me,  let  me  see,  three  hundred  dollars  at  John 
Florence's,  two  hundred  and  ten  dollars  one  night  in  Broadway 
' — and — d — -  it,  man,  I  could  not  think  of  paying  it  at  present. 


138  TIGOR. 

N 

I  must  look  up  some  of  Nordheim's  I  0  Us.  I  dare  say  they 
are  in  one  of  my  cast  off  vest  pockets,"  replied  the  impudent 
O'Doemall.  •• 

"  If  you  have  any  receipts  from  Mr.  Nordheim,  or  any  claim 
against  him — note — due  bill,  or  positive  evidence  that  Mr. 
Nordheim  owed  you  a  dollar,  Mr.  Granville  will  allow  it," 
said  Monck. 

"  Of  course  he  will.  I  knew  he  was  an  honorable  man.  I 
have  them  somewhere.  That  is  a  beautiful  daughter  of  Gran- 
ville's,  Isabella.  You  are  to  marry  her,  I  suppose  ?  Couldn't 
do  better,  and  I  shall  tell  my  friend  Granville  so,"  said  O'Do- 
emall. 

"  Really,  Mr.  O'Doemall,  I  trust  you  will  do  nothing  so  fool- 
ish. I  have  no  idea — that  is,  I  am  not  engaged  to  her,  and  " — 
said  Monck,  embarrassed. 

"  I  will  speak  to  Gran  about  it.  You  are  a  first  rate  match 
for  his  daughter.  She  is  pretty,  and  will  have  the  rhino,  eh  ?" 
said  O'Doemall. 

"  Really,  Mr.  O'Doemall,  I  cannot  converse  with  you  upon 
such  a  subject.  I  called  to  settle  an  account.  If  you  will 
not  settle  it,  I  will  so  say  to  Mr.  Granville  when  I  return  to 
the  store." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  I  could  pay,  I  believe,  twenty  such  ac- 
counts, if  I  owed  them.  I  believe  W.  Pitt  Granville  is  good, 
and  you  can  say  to  him  that  if  he  wants  to  borrow  eight,  or 
even  as  high  as  twelve  thousand,  I  can  let  him  have  it  at  ten 
minutes'  warning,"  said  the  audacious  Irishman. 

"  I  will  mention  the  circumstance  to  Mr.  Granville,  and  I 
wish  you  good  morning,"  coolly  observed  Monck. 

"  Bye-bye.  Drop  in  any  time  and  take  a  glass  of  wine," 
said  the  indomitable  O'Doemall. 

"  What  an  infernal  scamp,"  was  Mr.  Granville's  comment 
upon  Marion's  report.  "  Never  mind,  Marion  ;  I  want  you  to 
call  every  day  upon  that  impudent  fellow  until  you  shame  him 
into  paying  it.  Nordheim  owe  him  !  He  never  owed  any 
body  in  his  life.  He  was  uncommonly  particular  in  that  re- 
gard," continued  Mr.  Granville. 

"  I  think  it  will  be  a  waste  of  my  time,  but  as  you  wish  it,  I 
will  call  until  I  see  there  is  no  hope.  Shame  him  !  That  will 
be  a  tiresome  job,"  was  Marion's  comment  upon  the  business. 

The  next  day  Marion  went  again  in  No.  20  New  street,  but 
at  a  later  hour.  The  clerk,  Thomas,  was  there,  engaged  play- 
ing marbles  on  the  store  floor  with  another  boy. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  O'Doemall  ?"  demanded  Marion. 


VIGOR.  139 

"  Gone  to  dinner,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  Coming  back  soon  ?"  asked  Marion. 

"  Immediately.  Going  to  wait  1  Please  tell  him,  sir,  when 
he  comes,  that  I've  gone  home,"  and  before  Marion  could  ex- 
press the  least  dissent  to  a  proposition  that  left  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  store  and  its  goods  upon  him,  the  boy  was  out  of 
sight  as  well  as  hearing. 

"  I  am  in  a  fix.  Suppose  O'Doemall  don't  come  at  all  ?  But 
I  will  wait  awhile,  anyhow." 

Presently  a  very  respectable-looking,  middle-aged  woman 
entered,  and  enquired  for  Mr.  O'Doemall. 

"  He  is  not  in,  madam,  and  will  not  be  for  some  time.  I  am 
waiting  to  see  him  about  some  money." 

"  Oh  ;  do  you  owe  him  any  money,  sir  ?"  asked  the  woman. 

"  No,  indeed.  But  he  owes  me,  or  rather  the  firm  that  I  am 
a  clerk  with,"  replied  Marion. 

"  And  do  you  think  he  will  pay  you  ?  Do  you  think  he  will 
pay  me,  or  any  body  else  he  owes  ?" 

Marion  looked  at  the  woman,  who  was  in  a  state  of  violent 
excitement. 

"  Does  he  owe  you  much  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Only  seventy-two  dollars,  but  it  has  ruined  me,  and  my 
husband  goes  out  now  to  work  at  days'  work.  But  perhaps 
you,  sir,  can  tell  me  what  I  ought  to  do.  Mr.  O'Doemall 
served  us  a  dirty  trick." 

"  If  you  will  tell  me  how  he  incurred  the  debt,  with  all  the 
particulars,  if  I  can  give  you  good  advice,  I  will  do  so,"  said 
Marion,  who  began  to  be  interested  in  the  matter. 

"  It  is  a  long  story,  but  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  Well, 
sir,  you  must  know  that  me  and  my  sister  Mary  used  to  do  fine 
needle-work  in  the  old  country.  I  married,  and  came  to  this 
country  with  my  husband,  and  he  got  a  good  situation.  Then 
he  says  to  me,  '  Now,  Bridget  dear,  I  am  making  a  little 
money,  and  we  have  got  a  little  saved  up,  and  as  you  and  Mary 
can  do  fine  work,  I^think  the  best  we  can  do  is  to  take  a  little 
store  somewhere  up"" town,  and  you  can  make  and  sill  shirts 
and  sich  like,  and  gentlemen's  underclothing,  and  I  shall 
be  able  to  send  a  good  many  hotel  people  to  buy  of  you."  Well, 
we  got  a  little  store  just  big  enough  to  hold  us  and  a  few  goods 
up  in  Broadway,  near  Broome  street.  We  had  not  been  open 
a  great  many  weeks,  but  was  doing  uncommon  well,  when  one 
evening,  bad  luck  to  him,  who  should  come  in  but  Mr.  O'Do- 
emall. '  Ah,'  said  he,  '  fine  nice  store.  Show  me  some  of  your 
best  shirts.  I  must  patronise  you,  and  I  will  buy  a  dozen.  I 


140  VIGOR. 

want  the  finest  linen  shirts.'  I  showed  him  our  best,  and 
asked  him  two  dollars  a  piece.  They  would  not  do,  but  he 
said,  '  You  seem  honest  young  women,  and  I  will  trust  you  to 
make  me  a  dozen  of  the  finest  linen  shirts  at  six  dollars  each, 
I  must  have  them  in  a  week  ;  and  more  than  that,  if  you  do 
them  well,  and  suit  me,  I  will  bring  young  Coster,  Astor,  Lord 
Lennox,  and  some  other  fashionable  young  fellows,  my 
friends,  and  we  will  get  you  up  a  firsr-rate  bus! Less.' 
Oh,  sir,  that  O'Doemall  has  a  tongue  in  his  head,  and  he 
wagged  it  to  some  purpose.  He  set  me  and  my  sister  Mary 
almost  crazy.  We  thought  our  fortunes  were  more  than  made. 
We  took  our  good  cash,  and  went  and  purchased  the  very 
finest  linen  to  make  this  dozen  shirts,  and  we  both  worked 
night  and  day  until  they  were  finished.  One  Saturday  evening 
he  called  for  the  shirts.  They  were  all  packed  up  ever  so 
nice.  He  winked  and  looked  at  every  one,  and  he  talked  all 
the  while  about  his  magnificent  room,  and  that  he  could  not 
bear  to  stop  at  a  hotel,  and  I  do  not  know  what.  I  thought 
he  was  a  marquis  at  least.  At  last  he  says — 

"  '  Seventy-two  dollars,  eh  ?  That  is  cheap  enough.  I  have 
paid,  in  London,  twenty  guineas  for  shirts  not  half  as  good. 
But  you  must  send  them  round  to  my  house  in  Prince  street, 
it  is  only  a  few  doors.' 

"I  called  my  husband's  little  brother,  Felix,  and  he  took  the 
bundle.  Then  Mr.  O'Doemall  began  to  feel  in  his  pockets, 
and  he  took  an  old  wood  cane  and  laid  it  upon  a  chair.  He 
felt — felt. — I  asked  him  if  he  had  lost  any  thing.  He  said  no, 
but  that  he  had  dressed  for  dinner,  and  left  two  hundred 
dollars  in  his  vest  pocket. 

"  '  It  will  make  no  difference,'  said  he  ;  '  your  little  boy  can 
be  trusted,  I  suppose,  and  if  so,  I  will  give  the  seve*nty-two 
dollars  to  him.' 

"  We  told  him  to  trust  the  boy — we  did  not  like  to  refuse  to 
let  the  shirts  go,  but  he  went,  and  the  boy  too.  Presently  the 
boy  returned. 

"  '  I  want  to  get  the  gentleman's  cane.V* 

"  '  Where  are  the  shirts  1' 

"  '  He  is  holding  the  shirts  while  I  came  back  for  his 
cane.' 

"  The  poor  boy  went  away  again,  but  it  was  a  long  time 
before  he  came  back,  and  then  it  was  to  tell  us  that  he  could 
not  find  Mr.  O'Doemall.  We  could  not  believe  that  so  gentle- 
manly a  person  would  commit  so  cruel  a  wrong  upon  two 
women  just  starting  business  in  a  new  country.  But  next 


VIGOR.  J  4  I 

clay  we  found  that  he  had  never  lived  in  the  house  in  Prince 
street.  It  broke  us  up  at  our  little  place.  So  great  a  loss 
disheartened  us  ;  we  did  not  try  to  do  any  more.  It  was 
long  before  I  found  out  where  he  did  business.  I  have  been 
several  times,  but  Mr.  O'Doemall  laughs  at  me.  Says  he  will 
pay  me,  but  that  I  ought  to  pay  him  for  teaching  me  a  lesson 
in  not  trusting.  Oh,  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I  am  afraid 
we  will  never  get  paid  ;"  and  here  the  poor  woman  relieved 
herself  by  a  flood  of  tears. 

"  What  a  rascal  he  must  be,  to  be  sure  ?" 

"  But  that  ain't  all,  sir.  He  got  acquainted  with  my  poor 
sister  Mary.  She  was  a  very  beautiful  girl,  sir,  and  she  met 
him  and  took  walks  in  St.  John's  Park  with  Mr.  O'Doemall, 
and  she  has  never  been  herself  since,  and  I  foar,  sir,  she  is 
bewitched  after  him." 

"  Is  it  possible  such  a  man  is  allowed  to  walk  the  streets  ?" 

"  But  I  am  not  not  quite  done  yet.  My  husband  went  to 
Mr.  O'Doemall,  and  gave  him  a  piece  of  his  mind.  The  very 
next  day  he  was  turned  out  of  his  situation  at  the  hotel,  and  I 
do  believe  that  Mr.  O'Doemall  was  the  occasion  of  it.  Now  he 
goes  out  to  days'  work,  when  he  can  get  any  thing  to  do. 
But  here  he  comes,  Mr.  O'Doemall." 

"  Aha,  my  sweetest  plant  from  ould  Ireland  is  it  there  you 
are  ?"  laughingly  exclaimed  O'Doemall — and  then  noticing 
Marion,  he  added,  "  and  the  future  husband  of  the  delicious 
Miss  G-ranville." 

"Mr.  O'Doemall,  good-bye,"  exclaimed  the  indignant  Ma- 
rion as  he  left  the  store.  That  evening  he  told  Mr.  Granville 
the  story  of  the  shirts,  and  the  claim  of  three  hundred  dollars 
was  placed  in  a  lawyer's  hands.  Marion  was  told  that  he 
need  not  call  on  the  New  street  wine  merchant  any  more. 


CHAPTER    XXTO. 

Increased  Businrss  of  Mr.  Granville — Mrs,  Tom  Granville  becomes  hit 
Houseketper — The  latter  discovers  the  eng  igement  btioetn  Marion  Monck 
and  her  Niece — Communicates  it  to  Mrs.  Nordlieim — Disappointment  and 
stern  Resolve. 

THE  dissolution  of  the  firm  of  Granville  and  Nordheim  ap- 
parently had  no  effect  upon  their  extensive  business.  It  was 
continued  to  the  new  house  of  W.  Pitt  Granville,  who,  if  there 
was  any  change,  largely  increased  their  business.  Mr.  Gran- 


142  VIGOR. 

ville  devoted  much  more  of  his  attention  to  business  than  ever. 
He  was  at  his  office  early  in  the  morning,  and  except  to  go  to 
his  meals,  never  left  until  ten  o'clock  at  night.  Some  changes 
had  taken  place  at  his  home.  Tom  Granville  had  some  time 
previously  left  his  house  and  home  in  Chambers  street,  to  de- 
vote his  whole  time  to  Miss  Norris.  As  soon  as  it  became  evi- 
dent to  Mrs.  Thomas  Granville  that  her  husband  had  utterly 
abandoned  her,  and  had  openly  connected  himself  with  Miss 
Norris — which  he  did  immediately  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Nord- 
heim — she  sent  a  note  to  her  brother-in-law,  Pitt  Granville.' 
He  came  at  once  to  Chambers  street. 

"  Tell  me  nothing,  Kate,  about  Tom.  I  know  all.  "What  do 
you  intend  to  do  ?" 

"  It  is  useless  my  incurring  the  expense  of  keeping  house 
alone,  I  think.  I  have  no  one  but  my  sister,  and  she  can  take 
her  departure  for  Baltimore  at  any  moment." 

"  Then  give  up  the  house  at  once,  sell  off  the  furniture  to 
the  best  advantage,  and  come  and  take  charge  of  my  house. 
Isabel  is  too  young  to  be  burdened  with  a  housekeeper's  cares 
and  anxieties,  and  besides  she  needs  looking  after.  She  is  very 
inexperienced,  and  as  her  aunt,  you  are  the  proper  person  to 
take  charge  of  her." 

"  This  is  really  a  proposition  that  I  could  not  have  expected. 
I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you." 

"  There  is  no  occasion  for  thanks — I  am  the  obliged  party, 
and  if  you  say  you  will  come,  Kate,  there  is  an  end  of  it.  Make 
your  arrangements,  aud  come  as  quick  as  you  can." 

The  result  of  this  conversation  was,  that  Mrs.  Kate  Gran- 
ville was  installed  as  mistress  in  State  street.  Isabel  liked 
her  aunt,  and  was  delighted  at  her  taking  charge.  To  Mrs 
Kate  Granville  it  was  the  most  acceptable  thing  that  could  have 
occurred.  The  scandal  afloat  in  reference  to  her,  and  the 
separation  between  Tom  and  herself  would  be  silenced,  for 
certainly  the  world  would  say  there  could  be  no  blame  attached 
to  Mrs.  Tom  Granville,  if  her  husband's  brother,  a  large  and 
extensive  merchant,  should  receive  her  at  his  house  ;  not  only 
that,  but  take  her  to  keep  house,  and  take  the  charge  of  hid 
daughter. 

Mrs.  Kate  Granville  had  not  resided  with  her  brother-in-law 
but  a  few  weeks,  when  her  keen  eyes  discovered  that  there 
was  some  sort  of  a  secret  between  her  niece  Isabel  and  Marion 
Monck.  She  was  satisfied  that  notes  and  letters  passed  between 
the  two  young  people.  Marion  was  a  regular  visitor  at  the 
house  in  State  street,  and  was  there  a  hundred  times  unsue- 


VIGOR.  1 13 

pected,  because  he  was  now  the  confidential  clerk  of  Mr.  Gran- 
ville,  and  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  see  him  frequently. 
Sometimes  Mr.  Granville  would  be  confined  to  the  house  for  a 
few  days,  by  sickness.  Then  Marion  would  be  there  half  a 
dozen  times  a  day.  He  never  came  but  Isabel  contrived  to 
see  and  speak  with  him,  if  it  was  only  for  a  moment. 

Aunt  Kate  determined  to  put  an  end  to  this  in  some  manner, 
for  she  was  not  certain  her  brother  would  like  the  idea  of  an 
attachment  between  Marion  and  Isabel.  The  former  was  but 
a  clerk,  and  although  Mr.  Granville  seemed  to  be  very  fond  of 
him,  yet  she  knew  that  being  fond  of  a  youth  as  a  clerk,  and 
approving  of  him  for  a  son-in-law,  was  entirely  a  different  mat- 
ter. She  took  Isabel  to  task  the  first  opportunity,  and  taxed 
her  with  being  in  love  or  engaged  to  Marion  Monk.  The  fair 
girl  could  only  reply  to  the  charge  on  the  instant  with  a  flood 
of  tears. 

"  Don't  deny  it,  Bella  dear.  There  is  no  very  great  crime, 
and  you  can  tell  Aunty  all  about  it — how  it  happened." 

Thus  coaxed,  Isabel  very  soon  took  the  advice,  and  made 
Aunt  Kate  her  confidant.  At  first  the  sister-in-law  concluded 
that  it  was  her  duty  to  inform  her  brother  of  circumstances 
that  so  nearly  concerned  his  domestic  happiness  ;  but  when 
she  listened  to  Bella's  pleadings,  her  anxieties,  and  her  confi- 
dent assurances  that  if  Aunt  did  tell  Papa,  that  he  would  turn 
her  out  of  doors,  as  he  had  done  her  brother  Walter,  and  not 
only  that,  but  that  he  would  discharge  poor  Marion  from  his 
employ,  and  probably  ruin  him  and  his  prospects  for  life,  and 
all  "  for  no  good,''  Aunt  Kate  hesitated.  Then  Isabel  told 
her  that  Marion  was  not  to  blame,  and  that  it  was  her  persua- 
sion that  had  made  him  conceal  his  attachment  from  her  father. 
Finally  Aunt  Kate  was  persuaded  to  keep  silence  so  far  as  Mr. 
Granville  was  concerned,  provided  Isabel  would  agree  to  sub- 
mit the  correspondence  between  her  lover  and  herself  to  Aunt 
Kate's  inspection,  and  that  no  further  letters  should  be  sent  or 
received  unless  she  inspected  them.  Again,  it  was  understood 
that  Marion  should  be  informed  that  Kate  knew  all  about  it, 
and  that  she  would  converse  freely  with  him  upon  the  subject. 
Isabel  affectionately  kissed  her  Aunt  after  all  these  prelimina- 
ries had  been  settled  upon,  and  she  felt  her  mind  much  re- 
lieved. She  dreaded  the  anger  of  her  father.  With  Aunt 
Kate  as  her  confidential  adviser,  there  was  somebody  to  share 
with  her  the  furious  anger  of  her  father,  whenever  he  was  in- 
formed of  the  attachment,  should  it  be  displeasing  to  him,  or 
should  he  have  other  matrimonial  views  for  her. 


144  VIGOR. 

Mrs.  Tom  Granville,  after  Isabel  left  the  parlor  in  which 
this  memorable  explanation  had  occurred,  did  not  feel  at  ease 
in  her  mind.  "  I  have  consented  to  do  wrong,  but  I  have  pro- 
mised Isabel  not  to  interfere,  and  I  will  not.  If  it  comes  to 
Pitt  Granville's  ears,  as  Isabel  says,  the  house  would  come 
trembling  down,  and  there  would  be  a  general  smash  up.  Pitt 
has  a  fearful  temper  when  he  gets  a  going.  There  is  poor 
Walter  too — driven  off  to  sea — never  been  heard  from,  and  his 
father  never  allows  his  name  to  be  mentioned,  and  all  because 
he  chose  to  fall  in  love  with  my  sister  Madison,  and  refused  to 
marry  that  proud,  impudent  hussy  Mag  Benson.  No — Isabel 
may  run  off  with  this  Marion  Monck — L  certainly  will  not  in- 
terfere. But  one  thing  I  will  do,  without  delay — yes,  this 
very  morning.  This  Marion  has  a  warm  friend  in  widow  Nord- 
heim.  Of  course  she  is  aware  of  his  attachment  to  Isabel,  and 
she  has  great  influence  with  Granville.  I  will  go  and  consult 
her  about  the  matter,  and  take  her  advice."  She  rang  the  bell. 
The  servant  answered  it. 

"  Go  tell  Thomas  the  coachman  that  I  wish  to  go  out  in  about 
an  hour." 

Aunt  Kate  went  up  to  Isabella's  room,  and  informed  her  that 
she  was  obliged  to  go  out  for  a  few  hours,  but  would  be  home 
by  dinner-time.  Isabel  was  surprised,  but  said  nothing.  She 
little  dreamed  of  the  object  that  Aunt  Kate  had  in  view.  If 
she  had  done  so,  Aunt  Kate  would  not  have  been  permitted  to 
go  on  such  an  errand  ;  for  with  a  keen  instinct  Isabel  had 
partly  discovered  a  secret  that  Mrs.  Nordheim  supposed  was 
safe  in  her  own  bosom  ;  and  on  one  occasion  the  young  Miss 
had  almost  allowed  jealousy  to  get  the  better  of  her,  and  she 
came  very  ne;ir  charging  Marion  with  loving  Mrs.  Nordheim 
better  than  he  did  herself. 

Mrs.  Granville  found  Mrs.  Nordheim  at  home.  She  was 
dressed  in  deep  mourning,  and  received  Mrs.  Tom  Granville 
with  unusual  courtesy.  She  felt  a  deep  sympathy  for  her. 
Both  had  lost  husbands — one  by  death,  the  other  by  the  fasci- 
nations of  a  beautiful  but  bad  woman  ;  for  Mrs.  Nordheim  was 
not  aware  that  there  were  two  sides  to  the  story  of  Tom's  sepa- 
ration from  his  wife.  She  had  heard  that  Tom  had  left  his 
wife  to  go  and  live  with  Miss  Norris. 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Granville,  very  indeed  ; 
and  I  cannot  tell  you  how  glad  I  was  to  hear  that  you  had 
found  a  refuge  rrom  your  domestic  difficulties  in  the  house  of 
the  elder  Mr.  Granville.  It  is  an  arrangement  that  must  bo 
very  gratifying  to  all  parties,  for  my  beautiful  friend  Isabel  is 


VIGOR.  1  15 

too  young  and  inexperienced  to  have  charge  of  so  extensive  an 
establishment  as  Mr.  Granville's,  and  you  can  relieve  her  of 
all  care,  and  be  a  mother  to  her.  Poor  girl !  She  needs  a 
mother,  for  I  think  Mr.  Cranville  has  an  extremely  bad  tem- 
per, although  he  can  be  so  pleased  and  smile  so  amiably  in  his 
out-door  intercourse." 

Mrs.  Nordheim  spoke  with  animation,  and  from  the  heart. 

"  I  really  believe,  Mrs.  Nordheim,  that  you  do  feel  what  you 
express  ;  and  you  have  never  joined  in  the  lying  scandal  about 
me,  although  ray  name  was  connected  with  your  husband's.  He 
was  a  good  friend,  and  assisted  me.  What  his  ultimate  mo- 
tives may  have  been,  he  can  only  settle  with  his  God.  I  could 
not  do  less  than  be  grateful  for  his  kindness,  which  was  be- 
stowed upon  many  occasions  when  I  assure  you  I  needed  kind- 
ness. But  don't  let  us  talk,  Mrs.  Nordheim,  of  what  gives  me 
the  horrors.  I  came  up  this  morning  for  an  express  purpose." 

"  Indeed  !     Can  I  guess  that  purpose  ?" 

"  I  presume  you  are  aware  of  the  relations  that  exist  between 
Marion  Monck  and  my  niece,  Isabel  Granville  ?" 

Mrs.  Nordheim  sat  rocking  herself  to  and  fro  ic  a  well- 
cushioned  chair,  and  when  she  caught  the  last  words,  the  chair 
ceased  its  motion,  and  the  occupant  placed  her  band  for  a  mo- 
ment upon  her  heart,  as  if  to  discover  that  it  beat.  Her 
breath  caught  for  a  moment,  and  her  face  was  as  pale  as  death. 
It  was  but  for  a  moment  that  she  hesitated,  and  then  she  asked 

"  The  relation  between  Marion  and  Isabella  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  suppose  Marion  has  told  you  that  he  has  long  been 
attached  to  Isabel,  that  it  is  reciprocated  on  her  part,  and  that 
they  are  engaged  to  be  married.  They  are  both  fearful  that 
their  views  may  conflict  with  those  of  my  stern  brother,  and 
they  arc  both  keeping  the  arrangement  very  quiet.  I  coaxed 
it  out  of  Isabel  this  morning,  and  knowing  how  warmly  you  are 
attached  to  Marion,  I  presumed  of  course  that  he  had  at  least 
informed  you  of  it.  Is  it  possible  that  he  has  not  done  so  ?" 

Mrs.  Nordheim  broke  out  into  a  laugh  that  actually  sur- 
prised Mrs.  Grauville. 

"  Told  me — me  !  No,  he  did  not  tell  me.  Why,  it  is  the 
most  comical  thing  I  have  heard  of  for  a  long  time  !  Marion 
in  love,  and  engaged  to  be  married  to  that  little  girl,  Isabel 
Granville  ! — ha,  ha,  ha  !  It  is  a  good  joke,  is  it  not  ?" 

Mrs  Tom  Granville  could  not,  or  did  not  see  the  joke  ;  and 
she  replied  that  her  niece  was  not  so  very  little  ;  on  the  con- 
trary that  she  was  a  fall  grown  young  lady. 

"  0,  my  dear  Mrs.  Granville,  I  meant  no  harm.    To  tell  you 


14<]  FIGOR. 

the  truth,  your  information  has  somewhat  surprised  me.  Ma- 
rion is  not  yet  twenty  years  old,  and  it  is  rather  young  to  think 
of  getting  married." 

"  It  is  indeed.  But  what  can  be  done?  I  thought  I  would 
come  up  and  have  an  explanation  with  you." 

"  You  are  very  kind  indeed,  but  I  must  decline  having  any 
thing  to  do  with  the  matter.  Marion  has  not  told. me  of  it,  and 
therefore  I  shall  say  nothing.  Your  conversation  shall  go  no 
further.  I  will  keep  it  in  my  own  breast;"  and  she  placed 
her  hand  there  for  a  moment,  as  if  to  press  the  secret  in,  so 
that  it  would  be  safe. 

These  two  ladies  continued  in  conversation  for  over  an  hour 
upon  almost  every  topic  of  the  day.  Mrs.  Nordheim  took  the 
lead,  and  Mrs.  Tom  Granville  wondered  at  such  a  flow  of  good 
spirits.  At  last  the  visitor  left.  No  sooner  had  the  door 
closed,  than  Mrs.  Nordheim  fell  at  full  length  upon  the  floor, 
and  rolled  in  agony. 

"  0,  my  God,  preserve  my  reason  !  I  that  have  so  long 
loved  him  in  secret !  I — that  now  all  obstacles  to  my  dreams 
for  years  is  removed!  He — Marion — our  Marion  —  my  Ma- 
rion— to  go  and  fall  in  love  with  that  chit,  simpleton,  foolish, 
nonsensical  girl  !  But  I  will  not  give  way  !  No,  no,  no!  Cour- 
age, courage  !  It  is  better  as  it  is.  He  nor  no  living  Soul 
shall  know  what  I  have  suffered  !  Bat  it  is  over  now,  and  if 
Marion  were  to  come  home  I  could  receive  him  as  cahnly  as  if 
he  was  my  brother." 

She  rose  and  resumed  her  seat.  The  tears  silently  poured 
down  her  cheeks,  but  after  a  few  moments  she  descended  to 
the  basement  and  gave  orders  to  the  servants  as  calmly  as  if 
her  heart  had  never  known  aught  but  the  most  peaceful  pulsa- 
tions. Such  is  life  ! 


VIGOR. 


147 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

The  Daily  Life  of  a  New  York  Merchant — Haunts  and  Ideas  of  one  rf  the 
Cl'iss  Mr.  (jranvtlle  —  Coloi,el  Benson,  the  British  M-rch<int — Merchants' 
Ideas  of  child r  n—  A  plun  cunr.octc.d  tomarry  Isah  //a  Grativ  lit  to  Midille- 
ton  Benson  oif  th.fir  par, nis —Ifab-tla  at  (hi  piano — Arrival  of  th<:  ship 
Doruth  a  front  Bo.  aria— A  profitable  voyage — Minion  Alonck  informs  Mr. 
Gram-Hit  th:t  he  his  Ift  th~  housr  of  Mrs.  Nordkeim—The  City  HotJ — 
Captain  Watson — Tlit  Shades,  in  Thames  street — A  pleasant  night  there. 

THE  daily  life  of  a  merchant  in  Xew  York  is  one  round  of 
routine.  He  rises  in  the  morning,  gets  a  hasty  breakfast, 
and  before  nine  o'clock  reaches  his  place  of  business.  If  he  is 
a  shipping  merchant  he  reads  the  list  of'  arrivals  of  that  day, 
and  the  clearances  of  vesssls  the  day  previous.  If  he  is  any 
other  sort  of  merchant,  he  reads  that  portion  of  the  journal 
that  affects  his  peculiar  interest.  Half  an  hour  with  the 
newspaper  in  his  hand,  and  then  he  puts  it  one  side  and  goes 
at  his  /work.  The  letters  come  from  the  pest-office — these  he 
reads,  and  then  transfers  them  to  his  bookkeeper  to  be  read 
and  noted.  An  hour  later  he  goes  out  into  the  street  and 
attends  to  his  out-door  business,  and  perhaps  stops  at  a 
refectory,  an  oyster  cellar,  or  ])elmonico's,  and  gets  a  stiff 
glass  of  brandy  and  a  bite  of  something  to  eat,  and  then  is  back 
to  his  counting-house  or  store.  Business,  business,  business. 
Business  in  his  head,  business  in  his  actions,  business  in  his 
thoughts,  business  at  heart.  He  is  nothing  more  than  a  body 
made  up  of  business.  He  goes  home  to  dine  at  five  o'clock, 
and  reaches  his  commercial  palace  filled  with  thoughts  of  busi- 
ness. He  has  left  a  loved  wife — been  absent  from  her  nine 
hours.  He  has  perfect  confidence  in  her,  and  when  he  comes 
home,  he  tells  her  how  successful  he  has  been  in  business. 
He  eats  a  hurried  dinner,  but  delays  longer  to  drink  his  wine. 
He  returns  to  his  business  again  after  dinner,  or  if  not  he 
takes  his  hat  and  goes  down  to  some  place  of  amusement,  or 
to  see  some  friend.  At  or  before  eleven  o'clock  he  is  found 
at  home,  and  after  he  gets  his  tod  goes  to  bed.  The  next  and 
ten  thousand  succeeding  days,  perhaps  as  long  as  he  lives,  is 
but  a  repetition  of  the  one  day  that  we  have  given  as  a  sample. 


118  VIGOR. 

He  may  acquire  money,  but  even  that  is  not  all  he  desires. 
He  is  never  as  happy  as  when  he  is  admired  as  the  most 
extensive  merchant  of  his  class.  He  works  for  that ;  he  battles 
for  it  night  and  day.  As  a  politician  he  is  a  nobody.  Empires 
may  be  overthrown,  kingdoms  conquered,  a  republic  cor- 
rupted— it  is  nothing  to  the  merchant — it  has  no  connection 
with  his  business.  He  cares  not  who  rules  the  city,  the  state, 
or  the  nation.  He  does  not  vote — it  would  take  too  much  time, 
and  he  would  be  obliged  to  indirectly  mix  with  people  that 
he  considers  beneath  him.  Sunday  is  not  a  working  day.  Ho 
goes  to  church  because  it  makes  a  man  more  respectable,  and 
helps  pass  away  the  time.  His  religion  is  a  part  of  his  regular 
business.  In  early  life  he  has  married,  has  a  family.  They 
become  a  part  of  his  business.  He  leaves  his  wife,  perhaps  a 
young  charming  woman  to  get  along-  the  best  way  she  can 
with  nothing  to  do.  Most  women  find  something  to  do,  and 
they  have  it  all  their  own  way,  for  from  morning  until  night, 
day  in  and  day  out,  the  wife  of  a  New  Yock  merchant  can  tell 
at  any  time  where  her  husband  is.  But  could  the  veil  be 
removed  from  the  careless  husband's  eyes,  he  who  is  a  worse 
slave  than  the  Jane  or  Tom  of  the  South — .could  he  imagine 
for  one  moment  in  what  manner  his  wife  or  the  daughters,  or 
the  sons  occupy  their  time,  his  business  would  lose  its  charm. 

An  eminent  statesman  once  remarked  that  it  was  a  remarka- 
ble fact  that  there  should  be  a  virtuous  rich  merchant's  wife 
in  New  York,  and  on  being  asked  why  he  thought  this,  he 
answered, 

"  Because,  of  all  the  male  inhabitants  of  God's  earth,  the 
merchant  is  the  only  known  class  that  abandon  their  wives 
and  daughters  without  remorse  or  fear  to  be  seduced,  cor- 
rupted and  betrayed  by  the  idle  and  the  vile  of  the  othes 
sex." 

It  was  once  a  good  custom  in  New  York  for  merchants  to 
have  their  dwellings  in  the  same  buildings  with  their  stores.  A 
return  to  that  habit  would  save  from  vice  thouands  of  wives. 
It  is  a  good  custom.  The  merchant  can  then  look  after  his 
business  and  his  honor  at  the  same  time. 

Mr.  Granville  was  just  exactly  the  business  man  we  have  de- 
scribed. He  ate  his  meals  regularly.  He  went  to  church  on 
Sunday.  He  had  a  good  stock  of  wines  in  his  cellar,  and 
occasionally  gave  a  dinner.  It  was  a  part  of  his  business. 
Most  of  those  he  invited  were  business  men.  If  he  invited 
others  who  had  genius,  it  was  to  make  the  dinner  go  off  better  by 
having  a  few  intellectual  persons  mixed  in  the  business  eatera. 


VIGOR.  149 

He  had  lost  all  hopes  of  seeing  his  son  Walter  again — that  is 
to  say,  as  he  wished  to  see  him.  He  did  not  regard  him  as  a 
son  but  as  a  sailor,  and  as  his  confidence  was  lost  by  what 
the  senior  Granville  called  a  gross  act  of  filial  disobedience, 
he  determined  that  his  remaining  child  should  be  the  means 
of  carrying  out  his  design.  On  one  occasion  Colonel  Benson 
called  in  State  street.  Mr.  Granville  was  alone.  Aunt  Kate 
and  Isabel  had  gone  out  to  spend  the  evening  at  Mr.  Grasper's. 
Between  the  Colonel  and  Mr.  Granville,  Walter's  name  had 
been  a  forbidden  subject  by  quiet  consent.  This  evening  Mr. 
Granville  alluded  to  him  in  the  following  manner  :  "  Colonel, 
are  you  aware  that  I  have  never  been  so  crossed  in  any  matter, 
so  completely  disappointed,  as  at  the  overthrow  of  my  plans, 
or  rather  of  onr  mutual  plans,  in  reference  to  our  children, 
Walter  and  Margaret?" 

"  Children  are  inexperienced  and  great  fools.  Granville. 
I  confess  that  I  was  annoyed  for  a  short  time,  for  Walter  was  a 
great  favorite  of  mine.  I  saw  no  reason  why  the  match  should 
not  have  been  a  happy  one.  We  could  have  started  the  young 
couple  fairly  in  life,  and  Qiir  own  minds  would  have  been  at 
rest.  I'll  tell  you,  Mr.  Granville,  that  one  of  the  greatest 
anxieties  in  a  person's  mind,  if  he  has  sons  or  daughters,  is 
that  they  will  make  an  unfortunate  match,  especially  so  if  you 
have  money.  There  are  so  many  prowlers  about  in  a  city  like 
this— chaps  that  have  got  nothing,  but  dress  well  and  can  keep 
up  appearances,  and  get  into  society.  These  fellows  keep  parents 
constantly  on  the  look-out.  I  am  never  easy  in  my  mind. 
There  is  my  son  Middleton — he  is  rising  rapidly  as  a  business 
young  man.  I  am  delighted  with  his  conduct.  He  is  not  fool- 
ing about  the  town  at  nights,  and  has  formed  no  bad  ac- 
quaintances. He  will  be  taken  into  the  firm  before  he  is  much 
older,  and  I  shall  give  him  the  capital  that  I  have  invested  in  that 
house,  and  withdraw  my  own  name  altogether.  Now  would  it 
not  be  enough  to  make  a  man  curse  his  father,  if  that  favorite 
son  should  fall  in  love  with  some  pretty  shop-girl  or  some 
angelic  book-folder  ?  Yet  I  should  not  be  surprised  at  it. 
It  would  only  be  in  keeping  with  the  proceedings  of  sous 
generally  who  have  wealthy  parents." 

"  I  hope  Middleton  will  never  take  any  step,  my  dear  Colonel, 
that  would  be  so  utterly  repugnant  to  you  views  for  his  future. 
I  have  to  keep  a  careful  watch  upon  my  daughter  Isabella,  but 
thank  God,  sue  is  heart  whole,  anfl  will  never  disobey  or  cross 
my  wishes  ;  but  as  double  security,  I  have  got  Tom's  wife  here, 
and  she  is  a  perfect  woman  of  the  world,  and  if  there  is  any 


100  VIGOR. 

young  man  comes  to  my  house  to  make  love  to  ray  daughter, 
it  will  not  be  long  before  I  should  be  fully  informed  of  it.  If 
your  views,  Colonel,  are  not  changed,  as  we  have  been  disap- 
pointed in  one  match  between  my  son  and  your  daughter, 
suppose  we  try  again,  with  your  son  and  my  daughter." 

"  With  all  my  heart,  Granviile  ;  but  we  must  manage  somewhat 
differently.  I  shall  take  a  warning  from  your  son.  I  don't  like  to 
come  directly  in  contact  with  mine,  or  he  too  'might  go  off 
a  three  years'  voyage.  Consider  it  a  bargain,  between  us.  I 
will  do  for  my  son  what  you  proposed  to  do  for  yours,  and  you 
shall  do  the  same  for  your  daughter  that  I  proposed  to  do  for 
mine.  Now,  if  you  agree  to  this,  let  us  go  to  work  and  bring 
about  the  match  as  originating  with  the  two  young  people 
themselves,  and  not  witb  us.  Come  often  to  my  house  and 
bring  your  daughter  with  you.  I  will  make  it  a  point  to  bring 
Middleton  with  me  when  I  come  here.  Miss  Isa  must  display 
her  fascinations  to  the  best  advantage  and  when  we  find  there 
is  a  liking,  then  we  can  carry  out  our  views  ;  but  don't  let  us 
try  to  do  in  two  months  what  may  take  two  years  and  we  shall 
see  if  we  don't  have  more  success  in  this  marriage  plot,  than 
in  the  other  one,  which  resulted,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  in  losing 
your  son,  at  least  temporarily." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  perfectly,  Colonel.  I  already  perceive 
that  your  plan  is  a  more  feasible  one  than  mine." 

The  return  of  Mrs.  Tom  •Granville  and  Isabella  interrupted 
the  conversation  of  these  two  worthies,  who  were  a  fair  sample 
of  nine  in  ten  of  the  parents  of  New  York,  who  have  marriageable 
children.  Business.  Position.  Money.  These  are  regarded 
as  the  materials  for  a  suitable  match.  Honesty,  talent,  health, 
on  the  one  part — beauty,  virtue,  amiability,  intelligence,  on 
the  other,  are  not  counted  in  the  game.  If  they  were, "there 
would  be  few  matches  made  between  rich  men's  sons  and 
daughters. 

Colonel  Benson  was  a  man  who  had  moved  much  in  society, 
and  could  be  very  fascinating  when  he  chose  to  be  so.  When 
Isabella  had  removed  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  he  gazed  at  her 
for  some  time  in  silence.  He  was  more  struck  than  ever  with 
her  extreme  loveliness.  He  drew  his  chair  near  her,  and 
engaged  her  in  a  very  animated  conversation  for  some  time. 
He  was  delighted  with  intelligent  conversation.  Then  he 
asked  her  to  play  and  sing  some  of  his  old  favorite  English 
songs,  and  without  a  momeflt's  hesitation,  or  any  hypocritical 
arts,  which  young  ladies  frequently  use  to  enhance  the  value 
of  this  performance,  she  arose  and  went  to  the  piano,  which 


VIGOR.  1-31 

was  an  upright  English  piano,  imported  expressly  from  Eng- 
land for  his  child'.-*  use,  by  Mr.  Granville.  Isabella  played  all 
the  English  airs  that  she  had  learned  to  play  to  please  her 
father.  When  she  had  finished,  the  colonel  looked  at  Mr. 
Granville.  There  was  an  expression  in  his  eyes  which  the 
father  understood.  He  saw  that  the  colonel  was  delighted  with 
the  prospect  of  such  a  wife  for  his  son,  and  he  could  not 
control  his  feelings,  but  turned  to  Isabella  and  said  : 

"  My  dear  Isabella,  I  am  very  glad  I  did  not  bring  my  son 
Middle  ton  with  me,  for  had  he  been  in  my  place  this  evening, 
you  would  have  set  him  crazy.  But  I  will  venture  him  the 
next  time  I  come. 

Isabella  shuddered — she  hardly  knew  why,  but  at  that 
moment  the  bell  rang,  and  shortly  after,  although  it  was  late, 
Marion  Monck  entered  the  parlor.  He  bowed  politely  to  all 
in  the  room,  and  then  approached  Mr.  Grauville  with  some 
letters. 

"  The  ship  Dorothea,  Captain  Watson,  is  below,  sir.  She  is 
just  in  from  Batavia  with  a  cargo  of  sugar,  and  is  consigned 
to  the  late  firm.  Captain  Watson  came  to  the  oflace  only  a 
few  moments  ago.  I  took  him  up  to  the  City  Ho-el.  He  will 
go  down  to  the  ship  early  in  the  morning,  and  wishes  some 
directions  ;  but  I  will  wait  until  you  have  read  your  letters." 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Granville  was  occupied  in  reading  his  let- 
ters, and  as  he  read  he  commented  upon  them. 

"  The  Dorothea  will  make  a  glorious  voyage.  Her  sugar 
will  bring  eleven  cents  a  pound  from  the  ship,  and  they  only 
cost  five  Spanish  dollars  the  pecul." 

%"  How  much  is  a  pecul,  Mr.   Granville  ?"    asked    Col.  Ben- 
son. 

"  One  hundred  and  thirty-three  and  one-third  English 
pounds.  The  ship  will  clear  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  in 
her  cargo,  and  pay  a  good  round  freight  to  her  owner ;"  re- 
plied Mr.  Granville. 

"  Is  the  cargo  owned  by  you  ?"  asked  Colonel  Benson. 

"  It  is  owned  one  half  by  my  late  firm,  and  the  other  half 
belongs  to  John  McGreeu  of  Philadelphia,  who  also  owns  the 
ship.  I  am  his  agent  here,"  replied  Mr.  Granville. 

Some  general  conversation  occurred,  and  then  Colonel  Ben- 
son remarked  : 

"  Well,  Granville,  I  see  you  have  something  to  do  to-night, 
and  I  will  take  my  departure." 

"  You  need  not  be  in  a  hurry,  although  I  shall  call  on  Cap- 


2  VIGOR. 

tain  Watson  as  soon  as  I  have  finished  my  letters,"  said  Mr. 
Granville. 

Colonel  Benson  took  leave  of  the  two  ladies,  and  soon  after 
they  bade  Mr.  Granville  and  Marion  a  pleasant  good-night, 
and  retired  to  their  rooms.  Mr.  Granville  and  his  clerk  were 
left  alone. 

"  A  capital  voyage  the  Dorothea  will  make,  eh  ?  How  does 
Captain  Watson  look  ?  I  will  go  up  and  see  the  old  sea  dog 
presently.  You  must  send  a  note  to  Havemeyers  and  the 
other  sugar  refiners  early  in  the  morning,  and  see  if  we  can't 
sell  this  cargo  of  sugar  from  the  dock.  It  will  save  us  a  great 
deal  of  expense.  You  were  late  at  the  office  to-night.  Lucky, 
too,  or  you  would  have  missed  Captain  Watson.  How  is  Mrs. 
Nordheim  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Granville. 

"  Quite  well.     I  am  going  to  leave  there." 

"  Leave  there  !  Why,  I  thought  it  was  almost  a  permanent 
home  ?  What  is  out  ?  Have  you  and  her  quarrelled  ?"  de- 
manded Mr.  Granville. 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of.  She  told  me  this  afternoon  that 
she  should  probably  give  up  the  house  soon,  and  although  she 
did  not  wish  to  incommode  me,  yet  the  sooner  I  procured  a 
home  somewhere  else,  the  better." 

"  Short  and  sweet.  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Granville. 

"  I  have  not  made  np  my  mind  yet.  This  sudden  notice 
has  taken  me  all  aback.  I  must  try  and  get  a  boarding-house 
somewhere  nearer  the  office,"  said  Marion. 

"You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  To-morrow  do  you  come 
here  with  your  trunk.  I  will  have  a  room  fixed  up  for  you, 
and  you  will  be  perfectly  at  home.  It  will  be  very  convenient 
for  me.  I  shall  save  for  you  and  myself  a  large  amount  of 
boot  and  shoe  leather,"  said  Mr.  G. 

"  Really,  you  are  very  kind,  but  shall  I  not  put  you  to  in- 
convenience ?"  enquired  Marion. 

"  What  have  you  got  to  do  with  that?  •  You  are  well  ac- 
quainted with  my  daughter,  and  with  Mrs.  Tom  Granville. 
Coming  here  will  not  be  like  going  among  strangers.  But 
come,  let  us  go  up  and  see  Captain  Tommy  Watson,"  said  Mr. 
Granville. 

The  merchant  and  his  clerk  went  up  to  the  City  Hotel. 
Mr.  Willard  smilingly  told  them  that  Captain  Watson  had 
left  word  that  he  had  gone  round  to  the  Shades  in  Thames  street, 
directly  in  the  rear  of  the  hotel-.  To  "  the  Shades"  they  went,  and 
there  tbry  found  the  Captain  with  his  mug  of  ale  on  the  little 


VIGOR.  153 

table  before  him,  and  enjoying  a  cigar  M'lth  great  gusto.  Mr. 
Granville  and  Marion  took  seats  at  the  same  table,  and  soon 
had  their  "  mugs  "  before  them.  The  main  room  was  crowded 
with  small  tables,  and  every  table  had  four  to  six  persons 
about  it.  In  the  center  of  the  room  was  a  large  round  table 
which  accommodated  twenty  persons.  These  were  drinking, 
singing  songs,  telling  stories,  and  enjoying  themselves  without 
limit. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  there  was  such  a  place  as  this  in  New 
York,"  remarked  Marion. 

"  I  did,"  said  Captain  Tommy  Watson.  "  It  is  the  only 
place  where  you  can  get  a  good  glass  of  beer,  and  a  '  Welsh 
rabbit.'  I  always  come  here  when  I  am  in  New  York.  Be- 
sides the  good  drinks  and  eatables,  there  is  always  lots  of  fun 
going  on  here,  and  every  hour  the  character  of  the  guesls 
change..  In  the  morning  you  have  one  class  that  come  here  to 
get  their  breakfast.  Tea  or  coffee  and  a  mutton-chop,  or  a 
deliciously  done  beef  steak.  Towards  eleven  o'clock,  a  class 
come  here  to  get  a  mug  of  beer,  some  bread  and  cheese  or  u 
cold  cut.  From  twelve  to  three,  merchants — some  of  the  best 
in  town,  come  to  get  a  regular  feed — a  downright  dinner. 
Then  in  the  evening,  all  the  leading  literary  men  and  wits 
come  here,  and  in  addition,  a  lot  of  chaps  who  have  a  little 
spare  change,  come  anil  spend  it,  and  hear  the  geniuses  sing 
and  talk  ;"  said  Captain  Watson 

Captain  -Watson's  description  of  the  Shades  was  good  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago.  But  now,  although  the  Shades  is 
still  in  existence,  and  kept  in  the  same  place,  yet  its  custom 
has  sadly  fallen  off,  and  their  character  changed.  Now  and 
then  a  stray  English  actor  lodges  and  boards  there,  and  some- 
times one  of  the  ancient  guests  drop  in  to  see  how  his  old 
haunt  looks.  But  the  majority  of  the  customers  have  gone  up 
town,  or  to  their  graves,  and  the  Shades  is  desolate. 

The  Captain  and  his  consignee,  Mr.  Granville  and  Marion, 
remained  until  long  after  midnight  listing  to  their  songs,  while 
partaking  of  a  nice  little  bird  supper,  garnished  with  cham- 
pagne, which  Mr.  Granville  had  ordered.  The  Captain  con- 
tributed his  quota  of  enjoyment  by  telling  anecdotes  of  his 
recent  voyage  to  and  from  Java. 

When  they  parted  for  the  night,  it  was  with  the  understand- 
ing that  the  Captain  would  come  up  with  the  good  ship  Doro- 
thea, and  lay  her  along  side  the  Rector  street,  as  early  in  the 
morning  as  was  practicable. 

7* 


154  VIGOR. 


CHAPTER 

Count  Falsechinski  Makrs  a  Leva  upon  Mrs  Wood,  tiff— The  Count  cal/x  in 
Bond  street— A  I'alace  (fnfutpfttd  of  Evil  -Its  Gorqeousnfss —  The 
Count  gets  a  Check  for  a  Thousand  Down  and  Two  Thousand  Dollars  a 
Ytarfor  Keep  ny  a  Stcret — Accompanies  the  Lndy  to  a  Fashionable.  P,irty 
—  What  the  Count  Saw  at  "  The.  Parki-m  ''—  Mr.  O  Doemall  and  .»//••«. 
Parki-r  —  A  Scene  of  Ef.ntemc.nt  —  luttrviiw  betwte.n  O  wit  and  Mrs.  Wuod- 
ruff—Ten  Thousand  Dollars  (ffirid  for  a  Hush  :nd  for  a  Yo'ing  Ijidy 
of  We-tlth  and  Be(ivty--The  Litllt- B'lliy — A  UorrM-  Outrog?  in  Uigh 
Life — The  Count  Falsf,<  hii.ski  L  vi  s  I1' ve  Tho:s<tnd  Dollars  More — His 
Opinion  of  Morality  i.nd  Virtue  in  High  l' laces. 

WHEN  Miss  Norris  communicated  to  the  Count  Falsechinski 
the  secret  of  Mrs.  Woodruff,  that  noble  gentleman  forthwith, 
sent  a  note  to  the  Bond  street  lady,  lie  received  a  reply  the 
same  day,  requesting  him  to  call  so  soon  as  he  could  make  it 
convenient.  It  was  not  long  before  the  Count  made  his  appear- 
ance on  the  premises.  He  stood  upon  the  steps  and  then  rung 
the  bell,  but  noticing  that  the  outer  do«r  was  partially  opened, 
he  passed  in,  and  found  himself  in  a  short  hall.  At  the  end  was 
a  second  mahogany  door,  which  was  fast,  and  another  bell- 
handle  could  be  seen  at  the  side  door. 

There  was  every  sign  of  the  residence  of  some  wealthy  per- 
son, at  the  same  time,  it  was  evident  that  the  arrangement  of 
two  doors  was  very  convenient  for  persons  who  did  not  wish  to 
be  seen  entering  the  house,  as  they  would  not  be  kept  a  mo- 
ment on  the  outside  of  the  street  door.  Ladies  or  gentlemen 
could  run  up  the  marble  steps,  push  open  the  door,  enter,  and 
push  the  door  to  again.  There  they  were  safe  from  observa- 
tion, and  could  leisurely  ring  the  second  bell.  This  the  Count 
did.  A  colored  girl  soon  after  made  her  appearance. 

"  I  wish  to  see  madam." 

•"  Your  name,  sir  ?" 

41  The  Count  Falsechinski." 

The  inner  door  was  carefully  closed  by  the  girl,  who  went  to 
seek  her  mistress.  She  returned,  opened  the  door  sufficient  to 
allow^the  Count  to  enter,  then  carefully  closed  and  locked  it, 
and  led  the  way  to  the  rear  parlor. 

"  Take  a  seat,  Mr.  Count.     Mksus  will  be  down  directly." 


VIGOR.  X 

The  door  was  partially  open  which  connected  with  the  next 
parlor.  The  Count  entered  it,  and  found  that  there  was  still  a 
front  parlor.  Three  parlors,  magnificently  furnished,  occupied 
the  floor.  The  walls  were  covered  with  paintings,  and  the  fur- 
niture was  of  the  most  costly  description.  The  rear  par  Un- 
opened upon  a  balcony,  which  was  so  c.jvered  with  creeping 
vines  as  almost  to  exclude  the  light,  and  prevented  any  one 
from  looking  into  the  yard.  Between  the  two  rear  windows 
stood  a  bronze  stand  with  a  marble  top.  Upon  it  was  a  mar- 
ble bust  of  Daniel  Webster.  One  side  of  the  room,  between 
each  recess  of  the  fire-places,  were  large  mahogany  book-case;*, 
with  looking-glass  doors.  The  Count  tried  to  open  some  of 
them,  but  found  all  carefully  locked.  She  must  have  a  largo 
library,  thought  the  Count,  if  these  splendid  cases  are  filled 
with  books.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  was  a  small  ta- 
ble, covered  with  a  fine  white  cloth.  Upon  it,  was  a  large 
quarto,  bound  with  velvet.  The  Count  opened  the  book  It 
was  the  Bible.  "  Queer  female  this,"  muttered  the  Count,  and 
tired  with  looking  about  the  r,om,  he  partly  reclined  upon  one 
of  the  superb  sofas  that  lined  the  room.  ^Presently  the  lady  of 
the  house  entered,  and  walking  rapidly  across  the  room,  took 
the  Count's  hand,  and  bade  him  not  rise.  She  seated  herself 
by  his  side.  The  lady,  who  was  no  other  than  Mrs.  Woodruff, 
was  dressed  in  deep  mourning,  and  also  wore  a  widow's  cap. 

"  Count,  I  received  your  note,  and  I  presume  you  received 
mine,  or  you  would  not  be  here." 

The  Count  bowed  politely,  and  said  he  had  received  the 
note. 

"  Yours,  Count,  made  me  aware  that  you  possessed  a  secret 
of  mine,  and  that  it  was  in  your  power  to  do  me  injury  or  " — 
continued  Mrs.  Woodruff. 

"  Good,  as  you  may  decide,"  interrupted  the  Count. 

"  I  will  be  very  frank  with  you,  Count.  If  you  are  not  dis- 
posed to  injure  me,  you  can  be  of  essential  service  to  me,  and 
at  the  same  time  benefit  yourself  most  materially  ;  but  it  is 
necessary  that  we  should  perfectly  understand  each  other," 
remarked  Mrs.  Woodruff. 

The  Count  nodded  his  head  in  approbation. 

"  What,  Count,  do  you  require  ?:>  she  asked 

"  Money,  and  I  will  earn  it,"  replied  the  Count. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  have  me  infer  that  if  I  pay  you  a  certain 
sum  of  money,  that  you  will  not  only  keep  my  secret,  but  that 
you  will  serve  me  in  any  way  that  I  shall  point  out  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Woodruff. 


J56  VIGOR. 

"  T  do,"  replied  the  Count. 

"  Will  you  take  a  solemn  oath  upon  that  Bible  yonder  that 
you  will  never,  directly  or  indirectly,  betray  me  or  my  inter- 
ests ?"  replied  the  hostess. 

"  I  will." 

The  lady  went  and  got  the  Bible,  and  as  she  resumed  her 
seat,  placed  it  upon  her  knees,  and  again  addressed  the  Count. 

"  What  money  will  you  require  ?" 

"  I  wish  the  sum  of  one  thousand  dollars  in  cash.  I  then 
wish  you  to  pay  me  five  hundred  dollars  every  three  months, 
so  long  as  I  serve  you,"  said  the  cool  Count. 

"  Swear  upon  this  book  what  I  require,  and  I  will  agree  to 
your  proposition."  The  Count  took  the  oath. 

"  Excuse  me  a  moment."  The  lady  left  the  room,  but  was 
not  absent  over  five  minutes,  when  she  again  took  a  seat  by  the 
Count,  and  placed  in  his  hands  two  bank  notes  of  five  hu.ndred 
dollars  each.  "  Three  months  hence,  Count,  you  will  receive 
another  note  of  five  hundred,  and  so  on  for  the  year  at  least,  or 
as  long  as  our  bargain  holds  good.  Count,  will  you  tell  me  by 
what  means  you  discovered  the  character  of  my  establishment  ? 
I  do  not  ask  you  save  in  this  regard.  Will  the  source  of  your 
information  be  used  again  to  others  ?"  asked  the  lady. 

"  I  cannot  give  you  the  name  of  the  person  who  informed  me 
as  to  your  real  pursuits,  but  I  can  and  do  guarantee  that  it 
shall  not  be  repeated  by  that  party  to  your  injury,"  replied  the 
Count.  * 

"  I  am  satisfied  ;  and  no\Met  us  understand  each  other.  You 
move,  Count,  in  a  certain  circle.  You  will  make  many  valua- 
ble acquaintances.  Such  as  you  deem  will  be  of  value  for  me 
to  make,  I  wish  you  to  be  the  means  of  bringing  us  together.  I 
want  none  but  the  highest — those  who  are  wealthy^-or  hold 
positions  of  political  power,  or  foreigners  who  are  titled,  or 
leading  men  in  the  professions.  Do  you  understand  me  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Woodruff. 

"  Perfectly  ;  and  I  will  carry  out  your  views  in  that  regard. 
What  else  ?"  asked  the  Count. 

"  I  wish  you  to  accompany  me  to  church,  to  places  of  public 
amusement,  and  to  the  select,  fashionable  parties  among  the 
higher  classes  of  society,"  was  the  reply 

"  What  ?  Do  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  visit  in  the 
highest  circles  ?  '  asked  the  astonished  Count. 

"  Did  you  not  meet  me  at  Mrs.  Nordheim's  1"  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  ah,  lady,  yes  ;  that  was  because  you  were  a  neighbor, 
I  suppose  ;  but  there  are  higher  classes,"  said  the  Count. 


.    ..  VIGOR.  157 

';  Very  well ;  we  sliall  see.  Read  this  note,"  replied  Mrs. 
Woodruff,  and  she  handed  him  a  note. 

The  Count  read  an  invitation  addressed  to  himself  from  Mr. 
and  Mrs;  Parker,  inviting  him  to  a  party  at  their  house  that 
night. 

"  I  see,  my  dear  Count,  that  you  are  somewhat  astonished, 
but  I  have  a  note  of  invitation,  and  had  no  difficulty,  I  assure 
you,  in  getting  one  fur  you.  Nothing  will  give  me  more 
pleasure  than  to  accompany  you  there,"  smilingly  observed 
Mrs.  Woodruff. 

"  No.  Not  accompany  me,  but  meet  me  there,"  she  con- 
tinued, correcting  herself. 

The  Count  soon  after  took  his  leave,  but  when  the  night 
came,  he  was  at  the  party,  and  was  one  of  the  favored  ones. 
Mrs.  Woodruff  was,  as  usual,  quiet  and  retired,  but  made  many 
acquaintances,  particularly  among  the  young  married  ladies. 
Mrs.  Parker  was  the  life  and  soul  of  her  party,  but  the  Count 
could  not  help  noticing  that  one  of  her  guests  seemed  to  be  an 
object  of  the  deepest  interest  to  the  hostess.  It  was  no  other 
than  Mr.  John  O'DoemalL  the  wine  merchant.  He  was  dressed 
superbly,  and  certainly  far  outshone  the  Count,  who  did  not  at- 
tempt to  rival  him. 

"  What  an  impudent  scoundrel  that  O'Doemall  is  !"  said  the 
Count,  to  Mrs.  Woodruff,  as  the  carriage  which  contained  them 
drove  off  from  the  stately  residence  of  the  Parkers.  "I  had 
half  a  mind  to  give  Mrs.  Parker  a  warning." 

"  It  is  well  you  did  not,  Count.  Mrs.  Parker  is  one  of  my 
oldest  friends  and  acquaintances." 

The  Count  gave  a  prolonged  "  Whew  " — "  And  Mr.  O'Do- 
emall also  ?"  he'asked. 

"  Yes  ;  and  some  day  I  may  tell  you  more,"  she  replied. 

The  Count  became  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Woodruff,  attended  her 
at  church,  theatres,  and  private  parties,  and  his  salary  was 
regularly  paid,  and  as  fast  as  he  received  it  he  deposited  it 
with  his  Wall  street  bankers,  adding  constantly  to  the  amount 
to  his  credit  already  in  Prime,  Ward  &  King's  hands.  So 
weeks  and  months  passed  on,  no  one  suspecting  or  dreaming 
that  Mrs.  Woodruff  was  not  the  wealthy,  pious  lady  that  she 
was  supposed  to  be.  The  rector  of .  the  fashionable  church  a,t 
which  she  worshipped  paid  her  a  formal  visit  at  least  once  a 
month,  and  no  other  female  member  of  his  congregation  con- 
ducted herself  so  unexceptionably  as  Mrs.  Woodruff.  No  other 
made  the  worthy  rector  so  many  presents,  and  as  she  sent  them 
through  the  hands  of  the  sexton  of  that  fashionable  church,  no 


VIGOR. 

one  who  held  a  seat  in  that  church  received  a  bow  as  she 
passed  into  the  church,  or  was  shown  to  her  pew  with  a  greater 
respect. 

The  Count  had  drawn  his  salary  from  Mrs.  Woodruff  almost 
a  year,  when  one  afternoon,  as  he  was  about  leaving  the  office 
to  go  to  Delmonico's  to  get  his  dinner,  a  note  was  placed  iu 
his  hands  by  the  coachman  of  Mrs.  Woodruff. 

"  Carriage  around  the  corner.  Missis  say  you  come  right 
up,"  observed  the  coachman. 

The  Count  read  the  note,  and  then  hastily  followed  the  colored 
coachman  and  took  his  seat  in  the  carriage.  It  was  driven 
rapidly  to  Bond  street.  He  entered  the  house,  and  found  Mrs. 
Woodruff  in  her  private  parlor,  in  a  state  of  great  excitement. 

"  Ah,  Count,  1  a"hi  so  glad  you  are  come !  I  have  had  such 
a  scene  !"  she  exclaimed,  as  he  entered. 

"  Be  calm,  Mrs.  Woodruff;  seat  yourself,  and  tell  me  all 
about  it.  As  I  have  had  no  dinner,  will  you  order  me  some- 
thing, and  a  bottle  of  champagne,"  remarked  the  Count. 

The  order  was  given,  and  Mrs.  Woodruff  resumed  a  seat 

"  Who  was  the  scene  with,  my  lady  ?"  asked  the  Count. 

"  0,  with  those  Parkers  If  it  were  not  for  me,  their  wealth 
could  not  save  them,"  replied  ihe  indignant  Woodruff 

"  What  is  out  now  ?  Tell  me  all  about  it,  and  then  if  you 
want  advice,  I  will  give  it,"  said  the  Count. 

"  Count,  could  you  procure  a  husband  for  a  yor.ng  lady  of 
high  fnmily,  one  of  the  first  respectability,  if  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars were  placed  in  her  husband's  hands  the  moment  she  was 
married  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Woodruff. 

"  I  dare  say  I  could  do  so — in  fact  I  know  I  could  Ten 
thousand  dollars  ?  Is  the  lady  pretty  ?  I  know  fifty  young 
fellows  that  would  marry  ten  thousand  dollars  and  take  the 
Witch  of  Endor  if  she  were  alive,  as  the  wife  additional,"  re- 
plied the  Count. 

"  Do  not  joke — I  am  perfectly  serious  ;  and  I  will  tell  you 
the  young  lady  is  Miss  Julia  Parker,  the  niece  of  Mr.  Parker,1' 
observed  Madame  Woodruff. 

"  The  devil  she  is  !  Why,  my  lady,  what  is  out  now  ?  A 
beautiful  young  and  virtuous  girl  like  Julia  Parker  need  not 
go  begging  for  a  husband.  .  She  can  take  her  pick  in  the  mar- 
ket," said  the  astonished  Count. 

"  Yes,  that  is  all  very  well ;  but  she  must  be  married  as  a 
widow  with  her  child.  She  won't  give  up  her  child,"  said  the 
lady. 

"  Widow — child — Miss  Parker  !     Why,  what  the   old  Nick 


VIGOR.  159 

• 

is  out  now  !  Tell  me  all,  or  don't  ask  my  aid.  Where  is  Miss 
Parker  ?"  c*ntinued  the  Count. 

"  Up  stairs,  and  her  aunt  has  just  left.  But  I  made  her  pull 
in  her  horns.  I  dared  her  to  threaten  me.  The  negro  woman 
tiiok  away  the  child  this  morning,  and  the  mother  frets  about 
it  ;  but  the  old  she  devil  Parker  insists  that  she  shall  go  to  a 
party  on  next  Monday  night,  as  though  nothing  had  happened," 
said  Mrs.  Woodruff. 

"  How  long  has  Miss  Parker  been  in  this  house  ?"  asked  the 
Count. 

"  About  three  weeks.  She  had  a  little  baby  about  a  week 
ago,' '  replied  Mrs.  Woodruff. 

"  Miss  Julia  Parker — leetle  baby  !"  repeated  the  Count, 
whose  eyes  actually  stuck  out  with  amazc'inent. 

"  No,  indeed  ;  Madame  Parker  needn't  put  on  any  of  her 
airs  with  me.  She  is  a  communicant  at  the  same  church — that 
don't  matter.  She  has  done  it  all.  That  poor  girl  was  as  iu- 
nocent  as  a  babe  unborn,  until  the  outrage  was  committed  upon 
her,  and  why  was  it  done  ?  Who  did  it  ? — what  for  1  0,  Count, 
I  could  tell  you  such  a  story  as  would  make  your  hair  curl, 
without  putting  curling  tongs  anywhere  near  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Woodruff  in  a  very  excifced  manner. 

"  Now,  my  lady,  you  k»ve  said  too  much,  or  not  quite  enough. 
I  want  to  know  more,"  fiercely  observed  the  Count. 

"  You  shall  know  all  ;  and  then  advise  me  what  to  do.  That 
old  wretch  shan't  make  a  cat's-paw  of  me- — not  she.  You  know 
that  O'Doemall — of  course  you  do.  Mrs.  Parker  chooses  to  fall 
in  love  with  him.  He  of  coutse  agreed  to  it,  and  they  met 
here,  in  this  house.  She  wanted  a  handseme  lover — he  wanted 
money.  Well,  he  got  a  few  hundreds  out  of  her,  and  it  was 
more,  more.  One  day,  I  told  her  not  to  come  here  any  more. 
So  they  met  afterwards  at  her  own  house.  They  got  pretty 
bold  and  imprudent,  and  one  morning  Miss  Julia  happening  to 
go  to  her  aunt's  apartments,  she  caught  the  naughty  O'Doemall 
and  her  worthy  aunt  breaking  Commandment  No.  Eight.  Then 
there  was  a  scene  !  but  Mrs.  Parker  was  equal  to  the  emer- 
gency. She  sent  a  note  to  me  at  once,  enclosing  a  hundred 
dollar  bill,  and  requesting  a  room  ready  in  an  hour.  It  was 
ready.  Mrs.  Parker  came,  and  her  niece  was  with  her.  The 
niece  knew  nothing  of  my  business.  She  knew  me  as  a  vis- 
itor and  a  friend.  They  both  took  a  seat  in  one  of  my  parlors. 
Then  the  aunt  complained  of  being  sick,  and  asked  me  to  let 
her  lie  down.  The  niece  went  up  to  the  room  with  her.  Then 
she  ordered  up  a  bottle  of  Madeira.  The  servant  took  it  op. 


160  VIGOR. 

O'Doemall  came,  and  he  went  up  of  course.  But  really  I  can- 
not tell  the  rest,  Count — it  is  too  horrible,"  remarked  the  poor 
Mrs.  Woodruff. 

"  You  must  tell  it  all — go  on,"  said  the  Count  sternly. 

"  Be  it  so.  I  had  other  matters  to  attend  to,  and  my  mind 
was  not  called  to  what  Mrs.  Parker  was  doing.  The  three  re- 
mained in  that  room  over  two  hours.  Then  the  man  O'Doe- 
mall slid  out  of  the  house.  Then  I  went  up.  Julia,  j  oor  child, 
was  acting  more  like  a  maniac  than  anything  else.  Mrs.  Par- 
ker frowned,  scowled,  pinched  her  even.  But  still  the  girl 
sobbed  in  «uch  a  woeful  manner  that  my  suspicions  were 
aroused,  but  I  could  say  nothing  ;  and  shortly  after  Mrs.  Par- 
ker took  her  niece  and  they  left  the  house,  went  up  the  street 
a  short  distance  and  got  into  their  carriage  and  drove  home. 
Count,  in  order  to  keep  that  little  girl  from  exposing  her  aunt, 
that  fashionable  lady  and  her  lover  had  forced  the  poor  girl  to 
lose  her  innocence.  Is  hot  this  horrible  ?  I  suspected  this  at 
the  time,  but  it  was  only  recently  that  Miss  Julia  told  me  the 
facts.  The  outrage  was  repeated  several  times, .and  she  dared 
not  say  a  word.  She  became  pregnant,  and  then  the  aunt  in 
alarm  came  to  me,  and  to  prevent  disgrace  I  agreed  to  receive 
and  take  care  of  her  through  her  illness,  and  received  a  thou- 
sand dollars  for  my  trouble.  She  is  nearly  well,  and  31fs.  Par- 
ker, who  has  made  her  husband  believe  that  Miss  Julia  is  in  the 
country,  has  hired  a  negro  woman  to  take  the  child  to  nurse, 
and  wants  that  her  niece  shall  now  return  home,  and  take  her 
place  in  the  family  circle.  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Count  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Woodruff.  *  *» 

"•I  think  that  it  is  in  character  with  a  good  many  other  things. 
This  is  a  funny  world.  It  is  all  right.  Mrs.  Parker  is  one  of 
the  leading  fashionable  ladies  in  New  York,  but  why  dees  she 
wish  to  marry  her  niece  in  such  a  hurry  ?  As  a  widow,  too  ?" 
asked  the  cautious  Count. 

"  Because  her  niece  has  become  very  fond  of  the  child.  She 
says  she  will  keep  the  child,  and  that  if  she  marries,  it  must 
be  to  some  one  who  knows  the  facts, — that  is  to  say,  that  she 
is  the  mother  of  the  child.  If  any  one  who  is  respectable  will 
marry  her,  the  matter  can  be  arranged,  Count,"  observed  Mrs. 
Woodruff. 

"  My  lady,  you  are  deceived.  It  is  only  to  pacify  the  young 
lady  that  Mrs.  Parker  talks  that  way.  I  know  better — she  is 
not  sincere.  In  a  month,  the  shrewd  heartless  woman  will 
wean  the  young  one  from  her  offspring,  and  she  will  be  as  fash- 
ionable a  belle  as  ever.  No  one  will  be  the  wiser.  So  don't 


VIGOR.  161 

fret  yourself  at  all.  You  have  done  with  Mrs.  Parker.  She 
will  never  serve  you  more.  You  know  too  much.  Now  you 
must  make  her  pay — pay,"  said  the  Count. 

"  But  she  has  paid  me,"  replied  the  lady. 

"  No,  no.  She  told  you  she  would  pay  ten  thousand  dollars 
to  marry,  eh  ?  But  it  is  a  lie.  Never  mind.  I  will  get  five 
thousand — half  for  you,  half  for  me,"  said  the  Count. 

"  But,  my  dear  Count,  she  will  not  stand  it.     She  "- 

"  Don't  say  any  more.  She  will  pay  me.  Write  her  a  note, 
and  say  that  I  am  the  person  who  will  marry  her  niece,  and  that 
you  have  told  me  all.  Lea\e  the  rest  to  me." 

The  Count  received  the  sort  of  note  that  he  desired,  and 
with  it  he  proceeded  to  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Parker.  He  saw 
that  lady,  told  her  all  that  she  had  done,  and  gave  her  one  day 
to  raise  five  thousand  dollars,  or  that  he  would  send  her  and 
Mr.  O'Doemall  to  the  City  Prison.  .The  next  day  the  fright- 
ened lady  had  raised  the  sum,  but  only  about  one  half  in  cash  ; 
the  rest  was  in  jewelry  at  the  Count's  valuation,  although  it 
had  cost  Mrs.  Parker  over  six  thousand  dollars. 

The  Count  made  some  pledges  also  to  that  lady.  She  con- 
tinued at  the  head  of  fashion,  and  her  niece  eventually  married 
well — the  child  having  been  disposed  of  in  a  most  mysterious 
manner.  The  Count  was  right  in  his  predictions.  Mrs.  Parker 
met  Mrs.  Woodruff  at  church,  but  their  acquaintance,  socially, 
was  ended. 

The  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  the  Count  paid  over  to  Mrs. 
Woodruff,  and  the  jewelry  he  made  a  special  deposit  of  at  his 
bankers.  It  is  needless  to  add  that  the  Count's  faith  in  the 
genuine  piety  and  morality  of  our  most  fashionable  church 
goers  was  not  visibly  increased.  "  I  will  levy  a  tax  on  sin," 
said  the  honorable  Count,  "  wherever  I  find  it.'5  He  had  done 
so  with  the  Parkers  to  a  very  heavy  extent. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

The  shock  to  Mrs  Nordheim  at  Mis.  Tom  Granvillc's  communication — Finds 
herself  a  rich  widow  and  loving  Marion  Monck — Mr.  Wilson  and  the  Widow 
Nordheim — His  opinion  of  Monck — A  long  conversation — Marion  Monck 
quits  the,  house  of  Mrs.  JSordheim — The  latter  invites  Mr  Wilson  to  rexiiif 
in  Bond  street,  and  to  purchase  another  louse — She  offers  to  put  him  in  busi- 
ness— A  new  world  opened  to  the  old  bookkeeper. 

THE  communication  which  Mrs.  Tom  Granville  made  to  Mrs. 
Nordheim  was  as  unexpected  as  it  was  shocking.  She  was  a 
true-hearted  woman.  She  had  married  for  reasons  that  have 


162  VIGOR. 

been  already  alluded  to  ;  but  she  had  never  loved  Mr.  Nord 
Leira.  The  duties  assumed  by  her  were  invariably  faithfully 
and  fully  performed,  and  she  would  have  continued  to  perform 
them  until  her  dying  day,  but  she  was  young,  and  of  a  loving 
disposition.  It  was  not  until  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Nordheim 
that  she  became  aware  of  the  nature  of  the  feelings  in  her 
bosom  towards  Marion  Monck.  She  thought  she  loved  him  as 
a  sister.  He  had  been  something  for  her  to  love  for  lung 
years.  She  had  become  bound  up  in  all  his  aspirations  and 
his  hopes,  and  his  wishes.  He  had  become  a  part  of  herself. 
There  was  very  little  difference  in  their  ages.  She  was  a  few 
months  older  than  him — that  was  all.  When  Mr.  Nordheim 
died,  the  reflections  that  crossed  her  mind  in  reference  to  her 
future  were  of  a  new  and  at  first  a  startling  character.  Then 
she  began  to  canvass  Marion's  conduct,  and  she  concluded  in 
her  own  mind,  that  he  must  love  her  or  that  it  would  soon 
change  to  love.  When  Mrs."  Grauville  informed  her  that 
Marion  loved  and  was  engaged  to  her  niece,  her  eyes  were 
opened — the  veil  was  lifted  from  her  most  secret  thoughts. 
SLe  knew  herself,  her  weakness,  and  she  determined  to  con- 
quer it.  She  had  no  female  friend  or  relative  to  consult — but 
there  was  one  of  the  other  sex  that  she  respected,  and  felt  that 
she  could  trust.  It  wns  our  old  friend  the  bookkeeper,  Mr. 
Wilson.  To  him,  ever  since  Mr.  Nordheim's  death,  had  been 
confided  her  views  and  wishes  in  reference  to  the  settlement  of 
the  affairs  of  her  husband.  Those  affairs  had  turned  out  much 
better  than  any  one  anticipated.  It  was  true  that  Mr.  Nord- 
hcim  had  been  very  extravagant,  but  it  was  no  less  true  that 
the  firm  had  been  making  every  year  a  large  amount.  Mr. 
Nordheim's  original  capital  had  never  been  touched.  On  the 
contrary,  every  year  when  the  accounts  were  made  up,  Mr. 
Nordheim  hud  had  a  considerable  sum  to  his  credit  upon  the 
books.  As  soon  as  this  was  ascertained,  under  Mr.  Wilson's 
advice,  she  had  gradually  withdrawn  from  the  concern  large 
sums  at  intervals,  and  these  had  been  judiciously  invested  in 
real  estate,  and  in  bank  stocks  bought  in  her  own  name.  She 
was  independently  rich.  She  was  aware  of  this  fact  long  be- 
fore she  became  aware  of  Marion's  ill-fated  attachment  to 
another,  and  it  is  not  a  cause  of  wonder  that  she  sometimes 
dreamed  that  Marion  Monck  would  share  it  with  her.  Poor 
Marion,  little  did  he  dream  that  his  boyish  love  for  Isabella 
Granville  was  to  be  nipped  in  th*e  bud,  and  also  to  deprive 
him  of  a  fund  loving  heart  and  an  independent  fortune. 

Mrs.  Nordheim  had  seen  adversity  in  her  early  years.     She 


VIGOR.  1^0 

had  been  a  wife  without  receiving  any  of  those  blessings  of 
domestic  life  which  she  had  heard  of,  and  now  that  the  hopca 
that  were  just  budding  in  reference  to  Marion  were  so  cruelly 
withered,  her  heart  seemed  to  be  crushed. 

Mr.  Wilson  came  up  that  evening.  She  was  alone.  "  Where 
is  Marion  to-night?"  he  asked. 

Mrs.  Nordheim  burst  into  tears,  and  made  no  reply.  Honest, 
true-hearted  Wilson  sat  down- by  her  side,  and  tried  all  in  his 
power  to  console  her,  or  al  least  to  obtain  from  her  lips  the 
secret  of  such  hitler  tears.  As  she  became  more  composed, 
she  felt  that  to  have  the  sympathy  of  this  cold-hearted  busi- 
ness man  was  something,  and  her  heart  opened  to  him. 

"  Mr.  Wilson,  I  am  ashamed  to  tell  yon  why  I  have  wept  so 
bitterly,  but  I  am  sure  you  will  not  betray  my  confidence.  I 
have  had  that  youth  living  in  the  house  with  me  as  a  brother 
for  so  long  a  time.  I  thought  I  only  loved  him  as  a  brother, 
but  when  my  husband,  whom  I  never  loved,  died,  I  then 
awoke  to  the  real  state  of  my  feelings — I  loved  Marion  Monck." 
And  then  she  recounted  to  Mr.  Wilson  what  Mrs.  Tom  Gran- 
ville  had  told  her. — "  Can  it  be  possible  that  it  is  not  so — 
that  he  does  not  love  Miss  Granville  ?  Tell  me  truly  what 
you  think.  I  know  you  will  speak  the  truth,"  she  observed. 

"  Lady,  I  thank  you  much  for  this  confidence.  It  has  not 
lessened  you  in  my  regard.  On  the  contrary,  I  would  do 
more  than  ever  to  serve  you.  I,  too,  have  become  very  muca. 
attached  to  Marion.  I  have  no  body  to  love.  I  work  hard  for 
a  living.  I  am  poor,  for  I  have  saved  nothing  from  my  salary, 
for  until  within  a  few  months  I  remitted  all  for  the  use  of  an 
infirm  mother  and  a  sick  sister  in  England,  who  had  nothing  to 
support  them  except  what  I  could  send,"  said  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  You  are  a  noble  man,  Mr.  Wilson,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Nordheim. 

"  Death  has  removed  my  mother,  but  I  still  have  to  aid 
my  sister,  but  having,  as  I  said  before,  nothing  to  love, 
I  became  warmly  attached  to  Marion.  I  tried  all  in  my  power 
to  impart  to  him  all  the  commercial  information  which  I  pos- 
sessed. I  succeeded,  for  he  is  an  apt  scholar.  I  have  watched 
him  in  the  office  and  out  of  it,  and  the  more  I  saw  of  him  the 
more  I  liked  him.  When  I  discovered  that  there  was  an 
attachment  to  Miss  Grauville,  I  became  alarmed.  He  never 
informed  me  of  it.  but  I  could  not  be  deceived.  I  knew  that 
Mr.  Granville  would  not  listen  a  moment  to  it.  He  has  otlu;r 
views  for  his  daughter.  I  know  from  himself  what  those  views 
are,  and  you  may  believe  me,  Mrs.  Nordheim,  that  1  have  beea 


104  VIGOR. 

for  months  expecting  an  explosion.  It  will  come  sooner  or 
later,  for  Mr.  Granville,  when  he  sets  his  mind  upon  any  thing, 
•will  carry  it  through  or  die  in  the  attempt--.  You  know  the 
history  of  his  son's  unfortunate  attachment.  It  was  to  a  heart- 
less girl,  but  still,  Walter  loved  her,  and  refused  to  marry 
Miss  Benson,  that  his  father  had  chosen  for  him.  The  conse- 
quence was,  that  he  became  an  outcast,  and  is  somewhere  in 
the  Pacific  Ocean  as  a  sailor  before  the  mast,  and  I  do  not 
think  Mr.  Granville  ever  gives  him  a  thought,"  remarked  Mr. 
Wilson,  quietly. 

.  "  But,  Mr.  Wilson,  could  nothing  be  done  to  remove  Mr, 
Granville's  objections  ?  I  would  do  much  for  Marion's  happi- 
ness. Were  I  to  agree  to  put  a  large  sum  at  Marion's  disposal 
to  start  him  in  business,  would  not  that  remove  some  of  Mr. 
Granville's  scruples?  I  would  do  any  thing — make  any  sacri- 
fice for  him,"  continued  Mrs.  Nordheim. 

"  You  arc  a  loving,  kind-hearted  woman  to  say  so,  but  it 
would  not  add  a  feather  to  Marion's  chances.  Nothing  that 
you  or  I  could  do  would  prove  of  any  use.  Mr.  Granville  has 
made  up  his  mind,  and  there  it  ends.  Marion  might  run  away 
with  her,  but  if  he  did,  he  would  have  her  for  his  pains.  Gran- 
ville would  never  forgive  or  see  them  again  in  life.  On  the 
contrary,  he  would  do  all  in  his  power  to  ruin  Marion,  and 
plunge  the  married  couple  into  deeper  misery,"  replied  Mr. 
Wilson. 

"  What  a  character  he  must  be  !  I  never  heard  of  such  a 
man.  He  does  not  seem  to  be  so  iron-hearted  and  so  stern," 
remarked  Mrs.  Nordheim. 

"  He  is  even  worse  than  I  have  pictured  him  to  you.  Oh,  I 
know  him  well.  I  have  known  him  long  years.  Let  me  offend 
him  to-night,  and  although  I  have  almost  starved  my  life  out, 
yet  he  would  turn  me  into  the  street  penniless,  and  see  me 
starve  with  as  little  remorse  as  if  I  was  a  dog,"  said  Mr.  Wil- 
son. 

"  My  honest  friend,  I  begin  to  understand  you,  and  I  like 
you  more  and  more  Bear  this  in  mind.  I  find  friends  are 
few.  You  are  a  true  friend  to  me,  I  do  believe.  If  need  be, 
and  you  want  a  friend,  Mr.  Wilson,  come  to  me  at  once,"  and 
she  gave  him  her  hand,  which  he  took,  although  his  own  trem- 
bled. 

"  Nothing,  then,  can  be  done  in  favor  of  Marion  in  that  quar- 
ter ?"  she  continued. 

"  Nothing.  He  must  take  his  chances,  and  they  are  fearfully 
against  him,"  replied  Mr.  Wilson. 


VIGOR.  1 65 

"  How  is  it  that  Mrs.  Tom  Granville  seems  to  be  in  favor  of 
the  match  ?  Is  it  not  very  queer?"  asked  Mrs.  Nordheim. 

"  It  will  cost  her  a  home  ;  but  I  believe  if  her  heart  was  laid 
bare,  it  would  be  found  that  she  hates  her  proud  brother-iu- 
law  so  heartily  that  she  would  rather  injure  or  thwart  him  in 
any  purpose  that  he  holds  near  at  heart,  if  she  sacrificed  home 
and  every  thing  else  a  woman  holds  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  Mr.  Wilson,  tell  me  what  I  ought  to  do.  I  cannot  have 
Marion  Monck  live  longer  in  this  house." 

"  Is  he  aware,  dear  lady,  of  your  secret  attachment  to 
him  ?"  asked  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  Great  Grod,  no  !  I  should  die  for  shame  could  I  think  he 
dared  dream  of  such  a  thing  !  No.  No  one  but  yourself 
knows  it,  and  I  want  you  to  forget  it,  as  I  shall  endeavor  to  do. 
I  told  you  because  I  need  advice.  I  do  not  know  what  to  do. 
He  must  leave  the  house,  but  it  seems  cruel  to  tell  him  to  go. 
What  will  he  think  of  it?  How  can  it  be  done  ?  Oh,  do  tell 
me,  Mr.  Wilson,  and  I  will  be  so  grateful,"  continued  the  ex- 
cited lady. 

Mr.  Wilson  thought  for  several  moments,  but  did  not  say  a 
word.  At  last,  as  he  noticed  that  Mrs.  Nordheim  was  waiting 
for  a  reply  with  the  greatest  anxiety  depicted  in  her  face,  he 
asked,  "  l)o  you  wish  him  to  leave  immediately  ?" 

"  Oh  at  once — to-night  if  it  were  possible.  I  do  not  want 
him  to  remain  an  hour  longer  than  is  absolutely  necessary.  I 
am  afraid  of  myself — that  is,  I  am  afraid  that  something  might 
occur  to  Mr.  Wilson  that  would  betray  my  secret." 

"  Then  you  must  resort  to  innocent  deception.  Do  you 
know  any  place  where  you  could  go  and  remain  two  or  three 
days  ?"  asked  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  Oh  yes,  at  Woodbury.  I  was  there  during  the  summer 
the  cholera  was  here — don't  you  remember1?" 

"  Certainly  I  do.  Well,  we  must  send  you  up  there.  As 
soon  as  Marion  comes  home  this  evening,  say  to  him  pleasant- 
ly, '  Marion,  you  must  move  to-morrow,  for  I  am  going  away, 
and  shall  probably  break  up  housekeeping.'  If  he  asks  when, 
or  where,  tell  him.  If  he  asks  when  you  are  coming  back — 
you  don't  know.  Let  him  remove  to-morrow  with  his  things. 
He  will  find  some  other  place.  Once  out  of  the  house,  you 
will  have  no  further  trouble,"  was  the  sound  advice  of  Mr. 
Wilson. 

"  I  will  take  your  advice,  but  it  is  hard.  Still  I  feel  my- 
self it  must  be  done." 

"  Be  sure  that  you  place  his  removing   upon   that   ground 


1GG  VIGOR. 

alone,  that,  you  are  going  away.  Don't  let  him  imagine  for  a 
moment  it  is  for  anv  other  reason." 

Soon  sifter,  Mr.  Wilson  took  his  leave.  He  had  hardly  got 
away  from  the  house  before  Marion,  using  his  ni<rht  key,  en- 
tered, and  stood  before  Mrs.  Nordheim.  She  received  him  as 
cordially  as  though  nothing  had  happened,  and  it  would  have 
been  hard  work  to  have  made  the  announcement  that  night. 
She  felt  that  she  had  not  the  heart  to  do  it.  Bat  he  said — 
"  Bessy,  I  have  got  to  go  back  to  the  office  to-night  for  a  short 
time,  and  shall  then  spend  the  balance  of  the  evening  at  Mr. 
Granville's,  in  State  street." 

There  was  no  more  delicacy  about  telling  him  that  she  was 
going  into  the  country,  and  that  he  must  find  another  home — 
"  at  least  for  a  while,"  she  added,  as  she  saw  his  amazed  look, 
"  although  I  do  not  think  I  shall  keep  house  much  longer  in 
the  city.  I  mean  to  pay  a  visit  to  Charleston." 

"  Can  I  help  you  in  getting  ready  to  go  in  the  country  ?" 

"  No — you  will  ha?e  enough  to  do  to  get  your  own  things 
ready.  If  I  need  help  I  will  send  down  to  Mr.  Wilson." 

"  That  is  very  cold  language  to  use  to  me." 

"  Not  at  all.  You  will  have  enough  to  do,  as  I  said  before, 
and  the  sooner  you.  get  removed  with  your  things,  the  sooner 
I  shall  be  able  to  go — and  now  good  night.  I  have  got  work 
to  do,"  and  she  hastily  left  the  room. 

It  was  this  communication,  that  he  mentioned  to  Mr.  Gran- 
ville,  who  invited  him  to  his  house.  The  next  day  Marion 
went  up  to  Bond  street,  and  before  starting  ordered  a  cartman 
to  meet  him  there,  and  to  bring  down  his  trunk.  He  found 
Mrs.  Nordheim  in  the  parlor.  She  half  regretted  her  deter- 
mination. It  appeared  unkind  on  her  part,  and  entirely  un- 
necessary. Probably  she  would  have  told  Marion  he  need  not 
go;  but  when  he  arrived,  unfortunately  for  him,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Well,  Bessy,  I  have  come  for  my  things,  and  I  am  going 
with  them  to  Mr.  Granville's,  in  State  street." 

V  I  am  very  plad  you  have  found  so  pleasant  a  place.  You 
will  find  Miss  Granville  a  much  more  agreeable  hostess  than 
you  have  found  me." 

"  No,  that  cannot  be.  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me, 
Bessy." 

"  Well  then,  get  your  things  in  your  trunk,  for  your  cart- 
man is  at  the  door  ready  to  receive  them,"  and  then  she  hur- 
ried to  her  room  and  locked  the  door. 

Marion,  when  he  had  packed  his  trunks,  tried  to  see  her,  but 


VIGOR.  1GT 

the  girl  told  him  her  mistress  had  too  bad  a  headache  and  could 
see  nobody. 

Mr.  Wilson  called  that  evening.  She  saw  him,  but  her  pale 
cheeks  and  tearful  eyes  betrayed  that  if  it  had  not  cost  much 
trouble  to  get  Marion  out  of  the  house,  it  would  cost  her  still 
more  to  get  him  out  of  her  heart. 

"  He  has  gone,  has  he  ?  I  am  glad  of  it ;  and  now  will  vou 
visit  the  Connecticut  village  ?" 

"  No,  I  believe  not.  There  is  no  occasion  for  it,  and  I  am 
not  well." 

"  Should  Marion  call  here,  what  then  ?" 

"  I  have  ordered  the  servants  not  to  let  him  into  the  house, 
and  to  keep  the  door  locked  constantly  so  that  he  cannot  come 
in  as  of  old  with  the  night  key,  and  to  sav  that  I  am  not  home, 
or  any  thing  else  they  choose.  I  will  not  see  him  under  any 
circumstances,  at  least  for  a  month.  By  that,  time  I  shall  be- 
come accustomed  to  his  absence,  and  shall  be  able  to  see  him 
without  any  emotion.  I  am  very  glad  that  he  ia  gone.  Now, 
Mr.  Wilson,  will  you  do  me  a  favor  V 

'  I  will  if  I  can/' 

'  Let  one  month  go  by,  and  then  I  wish  you  to  remove  to 
th  s  house  ;  will  you  do  it  ?" 

'  If  }'ou  wish  it,  I  will." 

'  I  do  wish  it." 

'  What  will  people  say  "?  I  do  not  speak  in  reference  to 
myself,  dear  lady,  but  on  your  account." 

"  Mr.  Wilson,  I  do  not  care,  what  people  say.  I  intend  to 
act  during  the  remainder  of  my  life  upon  my  own  ideas  of 
what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong — following  the  one  and  avoid- 
ing the  other.  You  have  been  the  book-keeper  of  my  deceased 
husband  many  years — you  have  acted  as  my  agent  in  settling 
up  his  affairs.  I  still  need  your  assistance,  and  shall  continue 
to  need  it  for  a  long  time,  perhaps.  I  am  alone,  with  no  male 
person  in  my  house  ;  you  are  living  in  a  common  lodging  house. 
If  you  are  sick,  you  have  no  one  to  aee  that  you  do  not  suffer. 
Now  why  should  you  not  come  and  take  up  your  residence  with 
iue  ?  Who  can  or  who  dare  object  to  it  ?" 

"  True,  that  is  very  true,  and  I  feol  very  much  flattered  by 
your  kind  invitation.  I  will  try  and  be  of  use.  But  I  like  in- 
dependence, and  if  I  come  here  I  shall  expect  to  pay  some 
share — " 

"  Stop,  sir,  at  once.  I  cannot  repay  you  for  your  kindness 
with  any  thing  that  I  can  do  ;  and  if  you  come  up  here  to  live, 
I  wish  you  to  relieve  me  of  all  responsibility  or  anxiety  about 


1G8  VIGOR. 

business  matters.  You  will  be  made  comfortable,  but  the 
word  pay  must  never  be  used.  You  become  a  member  of  my 
family.  Wby,  do  you  suppose  thai  Marion  ever  paid  for  be- 
ing with  us  ?  No  indeed." 

"  I  really  was  not  aware  whether  he  did  or  not,  but  he  ren- 
dered himself  very  useful  to  Mr.  Nordheim,  did  he  not  ?" 

"  Once  he  may  have  done  so,  but  you  will  continue  useful 
to  me.  The  mere  fact  that  I  have  a  middle-aged  gentleman  in 
my  house,  is  full  payment.  I  need  a  protector  and  a  friend, 
and  I  shall  find  one.  That  is  not  all,  Mr.  Wilson.  You  have 
done  more  for  me  in  attending  to  my  complicated  business  than 
any  paid  merchant  could  have  done.  What  I  •should  have 
done  without  you,  I  know  not.  Your  suggestions  have  been 
very  valuable.  That  is  not  all.  I  do  not  suppose  you  intend 
to  remain  the  slave  of  Mr.  Granville  all  your  life,  and  when 
you  get  too  old  to  work  be  sent  to  the  workhouse,  if  you  can 
help  it.  Very  well — you  can  help  it.  I  say  so  to  you  now, 
and  what  I  say  now  I  will  say  six  months  or  a  year  hence. — 
The  moment  you  see  an  opening  to  go  into  business  on  your 
own  account,  and  only  need  money,  let  me  know,  and  you  shall 
have  whatever  you  require.  You  are  aware  that  Mr.  Gran- 
ville promised  poor  Nordheim  that  he  would,  take  a  partner 
whenever  I  requested  him  to  do  so.  You  can  talk  to  Mr. 
Granville  at  your  earliest  convenience,  and  if  he  will  take  you 
into  partnership  at  my  request,  and  in  compliance  with  his 
death-bed  promise,  then  I  name  you,  and  I  will  furnish  what- 
ever capital  he  may  require."  / 

"  I  have  no  words  to  express  my  gratitude  for  such  a  liber- 
al offer.  Oh,  Mrs.  Nordheim,  what  can  I  do  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  one  thing  that  you  can  do.  I  have  to  re- 
ceive in  cash  a  sum  equivalent  to  about  twelve  thousand  dol- 
lars from  Mr.  Granville  some  time  this  mouth,  have  I  not  ?" 

"  About  that  amount." 

"  Look  out  for  a  house  with  a  large  garden  in  some  quiet 
street.  Buy  it  for  me.  I  detest  this  street,  the  house  and  all 
its  memories.  As  soon  as  you  make  the  purchase  I  will  re- 
move into  it  with  my  furniture.  Don't  say  a  word  more." 

What  curious  thoughts  that  book-keeper  had  that  night  as 
he  walked  down  to  Clark  &  Brown's  in  Maiden  Lane,  where  he 
had  lodged  for  so  many  years.  A  new  world  was  opened  to 
him. 


VIGOR.  ICO 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Struggle  of  Mfrchnnts  to  k  ep  up — Tke.  Failure  of  Mac  A"«7  $•  Aspinwall 
— Loss  of  Friends — The  A'signmtnt  by  Mac  N-.il  Sf  Co. — Human  Feel- 
ing for  those  u'ho  Fail — O'Doemall's  Interview  with  Colonel  Mac  Neil— 
7h".  Latter  b-gins  to  I  dissipate — Consolation  in  Harrison  St'tet  with  his 
Ch  Idren — Removes  from  the  City  Hotel  to  Fifty  Dollars  a  year  Lodgings 
— His  Bureau  in  a  Centre  street  Grog  *hop~  Queer  Doings — A  Gentetl 
LoafersLifs — Anhon'st  Crtditor  (fives  the  Colonel  Eight  hundred  Dollars 
due  him  —  The  Value  of  a  little  J/I/TJ  y. 

MAC  NEIL  &  ASPINWALL  struggled  bravely  to  keep  on  and 
to  recover  their  losses,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  Both  partners 
lived  extravagantly,  and  Colonel  Mac  Neil  wa?  so  kind-hearted 
that  he  could  not  say  no  to  any  request  or  solicitation  for  pecu- 
niary aid.  For  some  time  after  he  had  made  provision  for  his 
mistress  McPherson  and  their  two  children,  both  himself  and 
his  business  partner  made  every  effort  to  keep  from  failing, 
but  as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  they  made  matters  worse.  They 
paid  two,  three,  and  even  five  per  cent,  a  month  to  get  their 
bills  receivable  cashed.  They  bought  goods  on  time,  shipped 
them  to  different  parts  of  Europe,  and  received  cash  advances 
on  the  same,  but  it  was  of  no  use.  Every  day  that  this  firm 
continued  to  pay  their  notes,  their  affairs  became  more  fear- 
fully involved.  At  last  the  day  of  ruin  came.  Colonel  Mao 
Neil  had  been  to  his  office  in  the  morning,  and  although  his 
partner  tried  to  keep  up  good  spirits,  and  speak  encouragingly, 
Mac  Neil  asked  him  "  How  long  is  this  state  of  things  going  to 
last?" 

"  0,  we  may  get  through  yet.  To-day  will  be  a  hard  day,  but 
Mr.  Grauville  has  promised  us  three  thousand  dollars  as  a  loan, 
and  with  that  we  can  keep  on  a  week  at  least, ;  before  that  time 
.something  will  occur  in  our  favor.  Keep  up  good  heart, 
Colonel." 

With  such  consolation,  the  Colonel  left  his  place  of  business, 
visited  a  few  haunts,  and  then  went  and  took  dinner  with  Miss 
McPherson  and  his  two  little  ones.  He  did  not  leave  them 
until  nearly  five  o'clock,  and  then  he  started  down  Broadway 
towards  the  City  Hotel.  He  was  opposite  St.  Paul's  Church, 
when  he  met  an  acquaintance,  a  merchant  whom  he  knew  very 

8 


170  VIGOR. 

well.  He  stopped,  and  \vliile  shaking  hands  with  the  Colonel, 
who  was  quite  surprised  at  such  an  exhibition  of  warm  feeling, 
expressed  his  regret  at  what  had  occurred. 

"  These  accidents  we  are  all  liable  to,  but  I  hope  the  mis- 
fortune will  be  but  temporary." 

"  Really,  you  must  be  more  explicit ;  what  misfortune  do 
you  allude  to  ?" 

Colonel  Mac  Neil  had  not  the  remotest  idea  of  what  was  coming. 

"  Why,  to  your — failure — suspension.  It  is  talked  of  in  the 
street.  The  notes  of  your  firm  have  been  protested  at  the 
Bank  to-day.  Were  you  not  aware  of  it,  Colonel  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  was  not.  Great  God  !  This  is  awful  !  Excuse 
me,  but  I  must  hurry  on  ;"  and  the  Colonel  did  hurry  on.  He 
went  to  his  store.  There  was  a  gloomy  set  of  clerks  there,  but 
hi's  partner  was  absent.  He  called  his  chief  clerk  on  one  side. 

"  How  is  this  ?  Have  our  notes  been  protested  to-day  ?" 
asked  the  Colonel. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it  is  too  true.  Mr.  Aspinwall  was 
to  have  received  some  money  from  Mr.  Granville,  but  only  a 
few  moments  before  the  Banks  closed,  he  declined  lending  us 
the  money.  There  was  no  time  to  remedy,  and  Mac  Neil  and 
Aspinwall  have  failed." 

"  Thank  you.  It  must  have  happened  sooner  or  later,  and 
perhaps  it  is  as  well  now  as  at  a  later  period.  Can  you  give 
me  a  small  sum  of  money  ?  '  demanded  the  Colonel. 

"  0  yes  sir  ;  we  are  not  so  bad  off  as  not  to  have  some  money 
left.  I  drew  five  hundred  dollars,  and  Mr.  Aspinwall  took  half 
and  told  me  to  hand  yoa  the  other  half.  Here  it  is,  sir,"  re- 
plied the  clerk. 

The  Colonel  took  the  money,  then  proceeded  to,  the  City 
Hotel,  and  went  to  his  room.  He  gave  orders  that  he  would 
see  no  one  except  his  partner,  should  he  call.  He  laid  down 
upon  his  bed,  but  he  could  not  sleep.  He  walked  the  room, 
but  it  brought  no  relief  to  the  deep  agony  of  his  mind.  He 
was  cast  down;  his  commercial  name  was  blasted.  "1- shall 
never  rise  again." 

The  Colonel  was  an  honorable  man.  He  met  his  partner  the 
next  day,  and  they  agreed  to  give  up  every  thing — to  assign 
all  the  property  that  they  held  jointly  or  individually.  "  Leave 
me  only  my  clothes,  and  I  shall  feel  happy  in  giving  up  every 
thing  else,"  said  the  Colonel.  Some  of  the  creditors  proposed 
giving  him  a  release.  The  Colonel  replied  that  it  mattered 
but  little,  but  that  he  should  be  pleased  if  they  gave  a  release 
to  his  partner,  who  would  probably  endeavor  to  get  into  busi- 


VIGOR.  171 

ness  again,  but  as  for  himself  it  mattered  .but  little,  as  he 
should  never  engage  in  commercial  pursuits  any  more.  To 
his  partner,  Aspinwall.  who  asked  him  how  he  intended  to  get 
along,  the  Colonel  replied, 

"  For  some  time,  at  lezfist,  I  have  a  pretty  sure  source  of  in- 
come. I  have  several  thousand  dollars  due  me — debts  of 
honor,  from  personal  friends,  to  whom  I  have  frequently  loaned 
money.  Those  debts  are  not  included  or  mentioned  in  our  as- 
signment, and  the  parties  will  only  pay  them  to  me." 

"Why,  Colonel,"  replied  his  more  experienced  partner, 
"  have  you  the  least  idea  that  those  friends  to  whom  you  have 
loaned  money,  now  that  you  are  a  ruined  man,  will  ever  return 
you  the  money  they  have  borrowed  ?" 

"  Of  course  they  will,  and  be  glad  to  do  it,  when  they  are 
informed  that  I  need  it.  I  did  not  ask  them  while  in  pros- 
perity," replied  the  unsuspicious  Colonel. 

"  Ah,  my  worthy  partner,  you  have  got  to  learn-  an  awful 
lesson.  Mark  my  words — you  will  never  receive  a  dollar  from 
those  friends,  as  you  call  them.  They  will  avoid  you  as  they 
would  poison."  v 

"  I  hope  not,  and  I  know  to  the  contrary.  You  regard  the 
world  as  worse  than  it  is,  but  we  shall  soon  see.  I  hope,  As- 
pinwall, you  will  not  suffer  much  from  our  failure.  I  mean, 
that  you  will  have  money  for  your  immediate  wants." 

"  I  shall,  Colonel,  because  I  shall  go  to  work  at  once  and 
earn  it.  1  have  already  secured  a  clerk's  position,  with  a  lib- 
eral sTilary.  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Granville  since  our  failure, 
and  what  excuse  could  he  make  for  behaving  so  badly  to  us,  at 
the  latest  moment,  too  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Aspinwall. 

"  I  have  not  seen  him,  and  I  shall  not  endeavor  to  do  so. 
Do  we  owe  him  any  thing?"  asked  Colonel  Mac  Neil. 

"  Not  a  dollar — lie  took  good  care  of  that.  And  now  good- 
bye, Mac.  God  bless  you  !  Keep  a  stout  heart  and  a  stiff 
upper  lip.  If  I  can  ever  serve  you,  let  me  know  how,"  was 
the  sincere  parting  words  of  Mr.  Aspinwall. 

The  Colonel  was  deeply  affected.  Mr.  Aspinwall  had  hardly 
left  the  room  before  Mr.  O'Doemall  entered. 

"  Ah,  Colonel,  I  am  glad  to  see  you— indeed  I  am.  Glad  to 
see  you  looking  so  well.  Bad  business,  your  having  to  fail,  but 
I  hope  you  have  kept  back  something  snug,  eh  ?"  remarked 
O'Doemall. 

"  John,  what  do  you  take  me  for  ?  I  have  given  up  every 
thing  except  a  few  debts  owing  to  me  individually  by  some  of 
my  friends.  You,  for  instance,  have  had  several  accommoda- 


172  VIGOR. 

tions  from  me  at  different  times,  in  all  I  believe  amounting  to 
over  five  hundred  dollars.  Now  is  the  time  that  I  need  it  re- 
funded, and  I  hope  you  will  not  be  backward,"  observed  Col- 
onel Mac  Neil.  . 

"  My  dear  Colonel,  if  you  knew  how  I  was  situated.  I 
haven't  a  dollar  to  keep  myself  with.  I  thought  to  get  some 
from  you,  knowing  that  you  had  failed,  and  had  no  more  notes 
to  pay.  I  felt  sure  that  you  had  plenty  of  money,  and  I  was 
going  to  ask  you  to  lend  me  a  hundred,"  said  O'Doemall. 

"  O'Doemall,  I  believe  you  are  a  precious  rascal,  and  I  will 
expose  you  unless  you  pay  me  some  portion  of  what  is  so  justly 
my  due." 

"  Expose  me  ?  Why,  Mac,  you  must  be  joking  !  If  I  owe 
anybody,  it  is  your  creditors.  You  say  that  you  have  not  as- 
signed in  your  schedule  what  I  owe  you,  and  therefore  I  think 
if  you  make  any  stir  about  it,  you  are  more  likely  to  expose 
yourself." 

"  Leave    the  room   on   the    instant,   or  by  .     Go,  go  ! 

Don't  make  me  put  my  hands  upon  you,  or  it  will  be  the  worse 
for  both  of  us,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel. 

"  Why,  Mac,  you  are  as  cross  as  a  bear  ;  but  I  will  leave 
you  now,  and  see  you  some  time  when  you  are  better  natured," 
said  O'Doemall. 

"  Scoundrel,  if  you  ever  dare  to  speak  to  me  again,  under 
any  circumstances,  I  will  break  your  head!  Begone  !''  said 
Colonel  Mac  Neil,  sternly.  . 

Mr.  O'Doemall  was  somewhat  alarmed,  and  made  a  precipi- 
tate retreat. 

"  Perhaps  Aspinwall  was  right,  and  I,  shall  not  be  able  to 
collect  a  dollar  from  my  fair  weather  friends,"  thought  the 
Colonel.  Colonel  Mac  Neil  was  not  to  be  an  exception  to  the 
general  rule,  that  when  one  meets  with  misfortune,  all  hope 
of  fair  weather  friends  is  gone.  He  tried  several  of  those  who 
owed  him  money — honestly  owed  him  borrowed  money.  Not 
a  dollar  could  he  get  from  them,  and  from  those  friends  who 
did  not  owe  him  he  was  too  proud  to  ask  a  favor.  So  days 
passed  on,  and  poor  Mac  Neil  found  his  position  changed.  He 
was  still  a  gentleman — still  could  be  amusing,  and  when  he 
frequented  old  haunts,  he  met  with  some  who  at  least  could 
afford  to  stand  a  treat.  There  was  one  source  of  consolation 
yet  to  the  broken  down  man,  for  he  was  completely  broken 
down.  After  his  failure,  he  began  to  drink  to  excess.  His 
eye-sight,  never  good,  partially  gave  way.  This  source  of  com- 
fort was  in  the  quiet  two  story  house  in  Harrison  street.  He 


VIGOR.  173 

had  provided  for  those  three  dear  ones,  and  they  could  not 
want. 

Miss  McPherson  tried  to  make  the  Colonel  tab3  up  his  home 
there.  It  was  in  vain.  She  urged  her  deep  and  tender  love, 
and  offered  to  place  at  his  disposal  the  income  which  was  com- 
ing in  quarterly  with  regularity.  No — he  was  too  proud  to 
accept  that ;  or  perhaps  it  was  a  better — a  still  higher  motive. 

"  Urge  me  not,  Jane,  to  any  meanness  of  the  kind.  I  have 
found  by  bitter  experience  what  it  is  to  bo  without  money. — 
You  nor  the  children  shall  not  have  such  experience.  Come 
what  will,  even  if  I  die  in  the  alms-house,  I  will  not  break  for 
an  instant  upon  yours  and  the  children's  means.  If  I  thought 
that  I  could  be  persuaded  to  do  so  I  would  go  to  my  room  and 
blow  out  my  brains.  No,  no.  Let  me  come  and  see  you  occa- 
sionally, see  the  little  ones  happy,  and  that  is  all  I  wish — I 
shall  get  along  somehow  or  other,"  was  his  reply. 

His  mistress  knew  his  determined  character,  and  that  it 
would  be  useless  to  attempt  to  interfere  with  his  determina- 
tion. She  was  a  woman  of  sound  sense  also,  and  loved  her 
children.  She  looked  to  the  future  for  them  alone,  and  know- 
ing that  the  provision  the  Colonel  had  secured  to  her  and  them 
would  be  but  a  drop  to  him  with  his  extravagant  habits,  she 
forbore  to  urge  his  taking  the  income.  So  Colonel  Mac  Neil 
travelled  the  world  almost  alone.  He  was  no  longer  invited 
to  parties  or  dinners,  and  he  withdrew  from  fashiorable  socie- 
ty. At  last  he  found  he  could  not  keep  a  room,  or  board  at 
the  City  Hotel.  He  paid  his  bill  and  removed:  he  told  no  one 
where  he  was  going.  He  had  an  old-fashioned  bureau  that 
had  belonged  to  his  father — that  and  his  trunk  were  all  his 
baggage.  The  cartman  that  he  employed  was  a  strange  one, 
and  could  not  be  found  after  he  'had  removed  the  Colonel's 
things.  Could  one  of  those  fashionable  associates  have  followed 
Mac,  or  found  him  within  a  week  after  he  left  the  City  Hotel, 
it  would  have  been  in  a  small,  badly-furnished  room  in  a  little 
tenement  in  Cross,  near  Pearl  street.  There  was  he  and  his 
trunks,  and  he  had  made  an  arrangement  with  the  proprietor 
that  he  could  have  that  room  for  a  dollar  a  week,  or  fifty  dol- 
lars per  annum.  The  bureau  was  too  large  for  the  room,  but 
the  landlord  had  also  a  store  only  a  few  doors  from  his  house. 
It  was  in  Centre  street,  and  extended  through  from  Centre  to 
Cross,  only  a  few  doors  from  Pearl.  He  had  been  a  porter  in 
the  Colonel's  store  in  former  days,  and  had  got  up  to  be  pro- 
prietor of  a  three  cent  grog  shop.  It  was  in  the  rear  of  this 
store  that  Mac  had  his  bureau.  Harry  Mercer,  the  propri- 


174  VIGOR. 

etor.  was  much  grieved  when  Mac  told  him  his  situation,  but 
Mac  would  accept  no  favors.  He  was  grateful  for  a  home 
where  his  poverty  would  not  he  exposed,  and  where  it  came 
within  his  means.  Harry  Mercer  was  glad  to  have  Mac  there. 
The  bureau  took  up  but  little  room,  and  was  placed  near  the 
rear  door.  The  store  was  always  open  at  daylight,  and  Colo- 
nel Mac  Neil  soon  after  came,  opened  his  bureau,  proceeded  to 
shave  himself,  and  after  half  an  hour  would  be  ready  to  go  to 
take  his  morning  draught.  Jemmy  the  clerk  had  a  bottle  of 
rather  choice  brandy  which  was  kept  exclusively  for  Mac's  own 
use.  Then  he  would  deliberately  read  the  paper  with  as  much 
satisfaction  as  when  he  was  spending  twenty  thousand  dollars 
a  year.  His  old  porter  respected  him  and  his  dignified  ap- 
pearance, for  he  was  scrupulously  neat,  and  his  intelligent  con- 
versation made  him  respected  by  the  regular  customers  of  the 
store,  who  it  is  needless  to  say,  were  a  uew  set  of'  acquaint- 
ances. 

Colonel  Mac  Neil  was  a  king-pin  among  these  new  people. 
When  he  had  read  the  morning  papers,  he  went  and  procured 
breakfast  somewhere,  and  then  returned.  At  about  eleven 
o'clock,  the  same  hour  that  he  used  to  show  himself  to  his 
fashionable  frfends,  the  Colonel  would  go  up  to  Washington 
Hall,  down  in  Barclay  street,  or  some  other  well  known  resort, 
where  he  could  mix  freely  but  independently  with  the  old  set. 
He  would  generally  be  asked  to  dine  by  some  of  the  young 
bucks,  who  felt  honored  by  his  acceptance  of  the  invitation. 
The  afternoon  would  be  spent  in  dining  and  finishing  some 
wine.  Then  the  Colonel  would  return  to  the  store,  and  sit  and 
chat  with  his  Centre  street  acquaintances  more  sociably  than 
with  the  Broadway  set.  They  were  delighted  with  him,  and 
there  were  no  end  of  drinks.  About  once  a  week,  as  it  reached 
nine  o'clock,  the. Colonel  would  say, 

"  Harry,  let  me  have  ten  dollars." 

"  Certainly,"  would  be  the  smiling  reply  of  the  one  called 
Harry. 

With  this  money  placed  in  his  pocket  book  he  would  go  to 
some  of  his  old  gambling  haunts.  He  rarely  lost.  Fortune 
favored  him  on  almost  every  occasion.  He  would  not  abuse  or 
tire  her  ladyship.  He  bought  his  chips,  and  calmly  played 
them  until  his  earnings  reached  twenty  or  sometimes  fifty 
dollars.  Then  he  stopped  and  would  play  no  more,  partake  of 
a  light  supper,  and  go  to  his  solitary  room. 

In  the  morning,  when  Mercer  opened  his  store,  Mac  would 
hand  him  all,  reserving  ten  dollars  perhaps.  This  sum  was  to 


VIGOR.  175 

be  used  to  give  the  Colonel  the  very  luxury  of  happiness.  He 
would  forget  his  usual  routine  when  such  a  white  day  chanced, 
and  be  off  for  a  large  grocery  on  the  corner  of  Church  and 
Canal  streets.  There  he  would  order  an  old  cheese,  a  few 
pounds  of  the  best  tea,  a  loaf  of  sugar,  and  a  few  choice 
thing%— as  many  as  he  could  carry,  and  these  he  would  carry 
himself  to  No.  27  Harrison  street,  and  there  would  be  a  merry 
time  of  it. 

How  queer  it  is  that  when  rich,  or  with  plenty  of  money, 
the  most  sensible  men  have  no  idea  how  far  and  how  much 
happiness  a  very  small  sum  will  sometimes  confer.  Colonel 
Mac  Neil  never  spent  ten  thousand  dollars  with  half  the  per- 
ponal  satisfaction  to  himself  that  these  ten  dollars  would  give. 
He  always  took  care  that  there  should  be  some  silver  left  to 
purchase  whatever  the  children  used  most  to  desire. 

These  were  happy  days  to  the  Colonel.  He  was  independent 
too.  He  was  not  drawing  upon  their  little  source  of  income. 

He  did  not  frequent  the  gambling  saloons  with  any  regular- 
ity. He  went  there  for  a  purpose.  He  had  lost  large  sums 
there.  He  went  to  win  back — enough,  as  he  said,  to  keep  him 
afloat  He  played  coolly  and  with  skill.  If  the  game  was  faro, 
he  played  small  until  all  the  cards  were  out  but  one.  Then  it 
was  a  fair  bet,  and  his  chance  of  winning  was  upon  a  par  with 
the  bank.  If  Ije  lost  his  capital  of  ten  dollars  which  he  invari- 
ably took  with  him  from  Mercer,  he  played  no  more.  Some- 
times a  person  who  had  known  him  would  give  him  fifty  dollars 
to  pley  on  shares.  Then  the  Colonel  would  generally  win,  but 
as  soon  as  his  share  reached  fifty  dollars,  he  would  play  no 
more,  but  go  to  his  little  lodgings  in  Cross  street,  and  the  next 
morning  add  it  to  his  pile  in  Wilson's  hands. 

There  was  another  curious  trait  in  Mac  Neil's  character. — 
Whenever  he  got  a  considerable  sum,  say  a  hundred  dollars, 
in  Mercer's  hands,  he  would  say, 

"  Harry,  give  me  a  receipt  for  fifty  dollars  for  one  year's 
lodgings." 

Mercer  would  give  it  without  comment,  and  take  the  fifty. 

"  Now  thJt  leaves  fifty  dollars" — or  sixty,  as  the  case  might 
be — "  in  your  hands  ;  is  it  not  so  ?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

"  Yes,  Colonel  ;  but  are  you  aware  that  you  have  already 
paid  me  for  three  years'  lodging  at  fifty  dollars  a  year,  as  we 
agreed  ?"  replied  Mr.  Mercer. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  it,  and  I  mean  to  be  on 
the  safe  side  and  be  ahead  for  some  years.  You  are  rising  in 


176  VIGOR. 

the  world  ;  money  is  of  use  to  you  now.  I  look  ahead,  and 
am  trying  to  provide  good  lodgings,  eh  ?"  added  the  Colonel. 

On  other  occasions  when  his  luck  would  be  good  and  he  had 
a  surplus  in  Mr.  Wilson's  hands,  he  would  go  and  pay  for  a 
suit  of  clothes  ahead.  Again,  he  would  pay  for  quite  a  bill  of 
useful  articles  which  he  knew  Mrs.  McPhcrson  or  her  children 
needed.  She,  poor  honest  woman,  asked  no  questions,  but 
made  up  her  mind,  that  from  some  cause  or  other,  the  Colonel 
spent  more,  money  on  her  and  her  children,  without  an  in- 
come, than  he  had  ever  done  while  he  was  rich.  But  Colonel 
Mac  Neil  in  poverty  days  never  got  entirely  broke.  He  always 
had  something  to  fall  back  upon.  He  dressed  better,  seemed 
happier,  and  was  more  so,  than  in  his  proudest  days.  Some- 
times a  gentleman,  who  had  means  restored  him,  would  pay 
back  the  Colonel  what  he  owed  him.  On  one  occasion  he  re- 
ceived from  such  a  source  eight  hundred  dollars.  He  laughed 
in  his  sleeve — I  don't  want  it  now.  He  made  Jane  McPherson 
add  it  to  the  sum  already  in  the  Savings  Bank. 

Mac  Neil  began  to  feel  the  value  of  money. 


CHAPTEE  XXXII. 

The  Parents  of  Marion  MoncJc  in  South  Carolina— The  Count  Fahechinskfs 
Gratitude — The  Count  with  hie  Bunkers,  Prime.  Ward  ty  King — Old  Nat 
Prime — His  Views  of  Real  Estate  on  New  York  Island—The  Count  buys 
One  Thousand  Lots— Realizes  $'250.000  by  the  operation — Miss  If  orris  %ne&  to 
Sussex  and  buys  a  Farm  for  her  I'aients,  and  sends  her  Brother  and  Sister 
to  School. 

OUR  readers  may  deem  that  we  have  neglected  the  family 
of  Marion  Monck,  as  rarely  has  an  allusion  been  made  to  them. 
Not  so,  however.  He  was  the  all  of  his  parents,  and  not  a 
week  passed  but  that  he  both  wrote  and  heard  from  them.  He 
was  very  careful  to  remit  them  all  his  surplus  money,  from 
month  to  quarter — and  as  he  received  a  very  liberal  salary, 
amounting  to  eight  hundred  dollars,  and  his  expenses  being 
very  light,  his  remittances  during  the  year  amounted  to  a 
considerable  sum.  He  was  devotedly  attached  to  his  parents, 
and  he  had  very  correct  views  of  his  relations  to  them.  He 
felt  that  until  he  was  of  age,  they  had  a  right  to  what  he 
could  earn  above  paying  his  own  personal  expenses.  These 
were  rendered  very  light  in  consequence  of  the  liberality  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nordheim,  while  he  lived  with  them. 


VIGOR.  177 

The  Count  Falscchinski  on  one  occasion  asked  him  what  he 
did  with  all  his  money — "  You  can't  possibly  spend  your  mo- 
ney." Marion  replied, 

"  I  do  not,  Count,  but  I  send  it  home  to  my  parents.  1  do 
not  want  more  than  I  can  use." 

"  That  is  all  very  fine,  but  if  you  saved  up  your  salary  you 
could  speculate  a  little,  and  add  to  it.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  for  capital  by  and  bye,  when  you  want  to  go  into  business? 
Now  I  have  got  a  pretty  considerable  capital  in  the  hands  of 
my  bankers,  Prime,  Ward  &  King,  and  it  is  growing." 

Marion  said  he  was  very  glad  to  hear  it,  and  added, 

"  But  why,  Count,  are  you  so  anxious  to  get  money  ?" 

"  Ah,  Marion,  you  have  seen  me  when  I  was  very,  very 
poor.  It  is  bad  to  be  poor.  You  have  been  my  good  angel. 
You  brought  me  luck — you  have  made  a  new  man  of  me.  I 
^vyll  never  forget  you,  Marion.  I  would  die  for  you.  I  will 
prove  my  gratitude  to  you  some  day.  You  don't  need  my  aid 
now.  You  will  some  day.  I  am  making  money\  I  work  for 
it  night  and  day.  I  have  a  fixed  purpose  ;  never  mind  what 
it  is  ;  and  that  reminds  me  that  I  have  got  a  note  from  my 
bankers  to  come  around  there — so  good  bye.M 

The  Count  went  to  Wall  street  to  his  bankers  ;  when  he 
reached  there  he  was  ushered  into  one  of  the  inner  offices, 
where  he  found  the  head  of  the  firm. 

"  Count,  good  morning.  I  have  sent  for  you  to  tell  you 
that  if  you  choose  to  place  your  money  out  under  my  direction 
it  will  pay  you  better  than  the  five  per  cent  which  is  all  we 
can  allow  you,"  said  old  Mr.  Prime,  the  head  of  the  house. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Prime,  you  are  very  good.  Will  you  point 
out  to  me  a  mode,  and  1  shall  follow  your  advice.  1  have  found 
it  of  great  service  heretofore,"  said  the  Count. 

"  Buy  real  estate  up  town — it  will  advance  very  rapidly.  It 
is  the  only  certain  way  to  make  and  keep  money  in  New  York. 
Real  estate  don't  run  away.  It  will  always  rise.  It  will  keep 
going  up  as  long  as  there  is  an  acre  of  unoccupied  ground  on 
Manhattan  island.  Every  dollar  that  a  man  don't  require  he 
should  invest  in  real  estate.  If  he  does  so,  he  will  be  im- 
mensely rich  some  day.  I  have  heard  you  say  that  you  shall 
not  require  your  money  in  some  years  ;  is  it  so  ?"  asked  the 
old  banker. 

"  You  are  right — it  is  so,"  replied  the  Count. 

"  Then  take  my  advice  and  buy  real  estate.  I  know  of  some 
property  up  town  that  can  be  bought  for  a  hundred  thousand 


178  VIGOR. 

dollars.       I  advise  you  to  let  me  order  it  for  you,"  said  Mr. 
Prime. 

"  But,  my  dear  Mr.  Prime,  I  have  no  such  sum  of  money — 
nothing  like  it,"  replied  the  Count. 

The  banker  smiled  as  he  replied,  "Nor  need  you  to  have. 
It  only  requires  about  twenty  per  cent  to  be  paid  in  cash,  and 
the  rest  can  remain  on  bond  and  mortgage  for  five  years.  Be- 
fore that  time  expires  it  may  do  to  sell,  or  hold  still  longer — 
it  will  double  in  value,  I  have  no  doubt." 

The  Count  did  not  hesitate  a  moment.  He  knew  nothing  of 
•what  he  was  doing,  but  his  confidence  in  the  stout  solid  old 
gentleman  was  unbounded.  He  requested  him  to  order  the 
purchase  made.  Mr.  Prime  replied,  . 

"  I  will  do  so.  You  need  not  trouble  your  head.  My  firm 
"will  employ  a  lawyer  to  examine  titles,  draw  up  papers,  and 
fix  it  all  up.  We  will  pay  the  twenty  per  cent,  and  charge  it 
to  your  account.  You  will  do  well,  Count." 

The  old  banker  was  flattered  by  the  confidence  shown  in 
him,  and  the  promptness  with  which  the  Count  agreed  to  take 
his  advice — and  that  old  man  was  a  shrewd,  wise  old  man  in 
every  way.  He  never  led  anybody  astray.  It  was  the  time 
•when  real  estate  began  to  take  that  great  rise  which  has  been 
the  means  of  making  many  immense  fortunes.  It  was  just  at 
the  commencement  of  that  rise  when  nearly  a  thousand  lots  of 
25X100  feet  each  were  bought  for  the  Count  at  a  price  inside 
one  hundred  dollars  a  lot. 

It  was  but  a  few  days  after  this  conversation  that  this  heavy 
purchase  was  made  by  order  of  Mr.  Prime.  The  Count  said 
not  a  word  to  any  one  except  one.  He  had  no  sooner  got  out 
of  the  banker's  office  than  he  hurried  up  to  Broome  street  to 
the  residence  of  Miss  Norris.  She  was  at  home,  and  for  a 
wonde*  was  alone.  Tom  Granville  was  not  to  be  seen. 

She  appeared  glad  to  see  the  Count,  and  asked  him  a  varie- 
ty of  questions,  to  all  of  which  he  replied  promptly.  Then  he 
said, 

"  Now  Clara,  I  owe  you  a  good  turn.  You  have  once  placed 
me  in  the  way  of  making  money.  I  can.e  up  this  morning  to 
do  the  same  for  you.  I  can  tell  you  how  you  can  more  than 
double  your  money,  and  be  safe  too.  I  know  that  you  have 
saved  up  at  least  three  thousand  dollars." 

"  Four  thousand,  Count — four.  But  I  have  not  a  cent  left ; 
if  is  all  gone,"  replied  Miss  Norris. 

"  Great  God  !  Clara,  I  am  amazed.  That  Tom  Granville, 
I  suppose,"  observed  the  Count. 


VIGOR.  179 

"  Why,  Count  Falsecliinski,  bow  perfectly  horrified  you  do 
look.  But  I  have  not  told  you  all.  I  have  not  only  spent  the 
four  thousand  dollars,  which  includes  the  legacy  of  five  hun- 
dred left  me  by  Mr.  Nordheim,  my  lately  respected  friend,  but 
I  have  run  in  debt  two  thousand  more,  which  I  must  go  to 
work  and  earn  money  to  pay  off.  Tom  Granville,  I  assure  you, 
my  dear  Count,  had  no  more  to  do  with  my  wilful  extravagance 
than  you  had,"  said  Miss  Norris. 

"  Wilful  extravagance  !  Really,  Miss  Norris,  I  am  sur- 
prised. I  feel  some  interest  in  your  future,  and  I  grieve  to 
say  that  I  am  distressed  to  hear  you  confess  you  have  acted  so 
imprudently.  I  gave  you  credit  for  a  stronger  mind — but  it 
can't  be  helped,"  said  the  vexed  Count. 

""Count,  you  have  never  given  me  more  credit  than  I  de- 
serve, and  don't  let  me  have  your  contempt  for  a  moment. 
Hear  me.  I  have  parted  with  my  money,  that  you  know  I 
placed  in  bank  for  safe  keeping,  and  where  it  was  drawing  in- 
terest. Count,  you  know  that  I  was  sold,  or  sold  myself  to 
Nordheim  for  the  sum  of  five  hundred  dollars,  and  that  the 
money  went  to  my  parents.  I  have  also  a  brother  and  sister. 
That  money  probably  saved  my  father  from  a  drunkard's  fate, 
and  my  mother  and  her  children  from  degradation  or  a  county 
poorhouse.  If  there  is  any  place  we  love  it  is  the  place  where 
we  were  born — if  there  is  any  ambition  in  the  world,  it  is  to 
stand  well  with  those  among  whom  we  are  born.  It  don't 
matter  where  we  go — what  we  do — how  great  our  success  may 
be  in  the  wide  world,  we  do  not  value  our  good  fortune  fully, 
unless  it  raises  us  with  those  in  our  little  village,  among  those 
where  we  were  born.  Now,  Count,  have  patience.  I  have 
not  squandered  my  money,  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  have 
done  with  it.  For  years  I  have  bean  of  service  to  my  parents 
— since  I  am  in  New  York  I  have  helped  them  all  I  could. 
Last  summer  I  was  up  in  Sussex  county,  and  spent  a  week 
with  them  in  their  somewhat  comfortable  home.  I  then  learned 
that  a  very  valuable  farm,  containing  some  three  hundred 
acres,  with  good  dwelling,  barn,  out-houses,  &c.  was  for  sale. 
It  almost  adjoined  my  old  homestead,  and  was  considered  a 
great  dairy  farm.  Luckily  I  met  with  a  lawyer  in  that  region 
who  was  always  partial  to  me.  I  told  him  I  wished  to  buy 
that  farm  for  my  father  and  mother  to  live  upon.  I  informed 
Lira  also  that  I  had  four  thousand  dollars  in  cash.  The  price 
asked  was  eight  thousand  dollars,  but  it  was  to  be  sold  at  auc- 
tion in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  and  the  terms  were  half 
cash  and  half  in  five  years.  I  returned  to  New  York,  made 


1 80  VIGOR. 

my  arrangements,  got  my  niouey  out  of  the  Savings  Bank,  and 
took  it  up  to  Sussex,  and  deposited  it  in  the  Sussex  Bank,  and 
waited  patiently  for  the  day  of  sale.  I  said  nothing  to  my  pa- 
rents. I  instructed  my  lawyer  what  to  do.  The  sale  day  came, 
and  my  lawyer,  Mr.  Thompson,  bought  the  farm  for  six  thousand 
dollars.  I  paid  more  than  half  cash,  and  have  five  years  to 
pay  the  other  two  thousand,  and  an  interest  which  only  amounts 
to  one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars.  You  may  imagine  how  my 
parents  felt.  You  cannot  conceive  my  happiness,  Count.  It 
was  happiness." 

"  You  have  raised  yourself  much  in  my  opinion.  You  hold 
the  titles  of  this  farm  in  your  own  name  ?"  inquired  the  Count. 

"  Entirely.  My  father  has  enough  to  stock  it  pretty  well.  I 
don't  expect  it  to  pay  me  an  interest  until  it  is  paid  for,  but  it 
will  be  a  home  for  them  for  life,  and  it  may  be  of  great  value 
to  me  some  day.  Now  I  shall  sleep  easy.  The  farm  had  been 
allowed  to  run  down.  It  is  well  worth  fifty  dollars  an  acre, 
and  can  be  made  worth  that.  My  father  is  a  good  farmer.  In 
his  hands  he  will  make  its  value  increase,"  replied  Miss  Nor- 
ris. 

"  I  hope  you  will  succeed  in  all  you  undertake,  Miss  Clara ; 
and  perhaps  in  this  matter  you  have  done  more  for  your  inter- 
est than  what  I  had  to  propose.  At  any  rate  you  have  shown 
yourself  a  good,  amiable  child,  and  you  have  made  yourself 
happy  by  doing  a  good  action.  How  is  Master  Torn  1"  asked 
the  Count. 

"  I  have  not  seen  him,  Count,  since  morning,"  replied  Clara. 

"  Are  you  aware  that  his  wife  has  been  on  to  Baltimore  and 
employed  a  distinguished  lawyer  to  get  a  divorce  for  her  from 
her  husband  ?" 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  it,  and  I  do  not  think  Tom  knew  any 
thing  about  it.  Well,  she  will  get  the  divorce  without  any 
trouble,  for  I  believe  Tom  will  not  contest  the  matter.  How 
did  you  hear  of  it  ?"  inquired  Miss  Norris. 

"  From  her  brother-in-law,"  replied  the  Count. 

"  Why,  Count,  perhaps  she  is  anxious  to  get  a  divorce  from 
Tom  to  set  her  cap  for  you  ?"  laughingly  observed  Miss  Norris. 

"  My  good  Clara,  she  has  got  no  money,  and  I  cannot  marry 
anybody  who  has  not  got  plenty  of  money — money  that  brings 
in  an  income — property  that  gives  such  a  sum  every  year. 
Then  a  man  is  a  man,  and  can  be  a  gentleman  even  in  this 
country,  if  he  has  a  fixed  allowance.  I  want  at  least  an  income 
of  twelve  thousand  dollars  a  year.  Then  I  shall  feel  easy — 


VIGOR.   .  181 

not  until  then.  I  will  have  it  some  day,  Miss  Clara.  Nous 
verrons,"  observed  the  excited  Count. 

"  Ah,  Count,  you  have  some  secret  that  I  cannot  fathom  ; 
but  perhaps  you  will  tell  me  some  day  gwhat  it  is,"  observed 
Miss  Norris. 

"  I  must  leave  you  now,  and  I  wish  you  a  good  day.  The 
more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  I  am  pleased  with  your  purchase 
of  that  farm,"  said  the  Count. 

The  Count  returned  to  his  humble  lodgings  in  John  street. 

It  is  not  exactly  in  place  to  tell  here  the  result  of  the  real 
estate  operations  made  by  the  Count  Falsechinski,  at  the  sug- 
gestion of  old  Mr.  Prime,  but  it  may  be  as  well  told  here  as 
any  where  else.  For  the  moment  the  purchase  was  made,  real 
estate  began  to  rise  rapidly.  Lots  sold  one  day  at  a  certain 
price,  were  re-sold  again  the  next  day  almost  for  double,  and  a 
third,  fourth  and  fifth  sales  were  made  within  a  very  few  days 
at  the  most  extravagant  prices.  The  lots  purchased  by  the 
Count  Falsechinski  were  in  about  what  would  be  now  the  lower 
part  of  the  city.  They  comprised  a  large  vegetable  garden. 

Not  many  weeks  after  the  papers  were  all  duly  signed  and 
the  money  paid,  the  Count  was  again  sent  for  by  old  Mr. 
Prime.  He  went  to  the  old  banker's  office.  Mr.  Prime  said, 
"  Count,  you  can  get  two  hundred  dollars  a  lot  for  your  lots. 
Do  you  wish  to  sell  ?" 

The  Count  was  amazed,  and  he  replied,  perfectly  cool — • 
"  What  do  you  advise,  Mr.  Prime  ?" 

"  Wait.     The  fever  has  not  yet  got  full  headway." 

"  I  will  do  as  you  advise,"  and  the  Count  went  back  to  his 
clerkly  duties  in  the  office  of  Mr.  Granville,  who  knew  no  more 
of  the  Count's  transaction  with  the  banker  than  he  did  of  the 
world  of  spirits.  Not  many  weeks  more  elapsed  before  the 
Count  received  a  note  asking  him  to  dine  with  the  great  banker 
at  his  country  seat  near  Hurlgate.  The  Count  accepted  the 
invitation,  and  a-t  three  o'clock  took  a  seat  in  the  carriage  of 
the  banker.  When  they  were  on  the  way  up,  old  Mr.  Prime 
ordered  his  coachman  to  drive  to  the  garden,  which  was,  in 
reality,  the  property  of  the  Count.  He  pointed  out  its  advan- 
tages, and  prophesied  that  ere  many  years  it  would  be  cov- 
ered with  palatial  residences.  The  ride  was  a  delightful  one. 
The  dinner  was  excellent,  the  Count  was  introduced  to  the 
banker's  family,  and  he  in  his  turn  made  himself  uncommonly 
agreeable.  That  night  he  slept  in  the  house  of  his  hospitable 
entertainer,  as  it  was  too  late  to  go  into  the  city.  After  the 
breakfast  was  concluded  the  next  morning,  the  old  banker  re- 


182  VIGOR. 

marked,  as  though  it  was  not  of  much  consequence,  "  Count, 
your  lots  have  gone  up  to  three  hundred  dollars.  You  can  get 
that  for  every  one  of  them.  I  think  the  fever  has  reached  a 
crisis.  I  advise  you  to  sell.  You  can  get  one  half  cash.  That 
is  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars.  You  owe  eighty 
thousand  dollars  mortgage.  Take  eighty  thousand  dollars  out 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  buy  the  mort- 
gage, Count.  Then  you  will  have  a  first  mortgage  for  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  bringing  seven  per  cent,  in- 
terest and  seventy  thousand  dollars  in  cash.  The  mortgage 
has  to  run  five  years.  Perhaps  at  that  time  it  will  be  down, 
and  you  can  foreclose  and  get  your  property  back  again." 

It  all  happened  as  the  old  financie/  prophesied.  The  Count 
sold  out  his  real  estate,  the  thousand  lots,  paid  the  mortgage 
of  eighty  thousand  dollars,  had  seventy  thousand  dollars  in  his 
banker's  hands,  and  a  mortgage  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars  drawing  seven  per  cent  interest,  and  one  of  the 
best  possible  investments.  We  now  return  to  the  regular  nar- 
rative and  to  the  moment  when  the  Count  returned  to  his  John, 
street  humble  quarters. 


•       CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

The  "  Battery"  a  Quarter  of  a  Century  Since — Marion  Monck — Isabella  Gra  :- 
villf  and  Miss  Benson— The  Man  tVho  Killed  Mr.  Nordheim—F.  GailLrl 
— He  Accompanies  Miss  Benson  Home  from  the  Buttery —The  Accomjil'.alied 
Seducer — A  Career  oj  Villainy — T/ie  Due  -~-An  Anecdote  of  Rascality — The 
World's  Opinion 

THE  old  citizens  of  New  York  must  well  recollect  what  a 
place  of  resort  the  Battery  was  twenty-five  years  ago.  Then, 
most  of  the  adjoining  blocks  were  made  up  of  handsome  dwell- 
ing-houses, and  they  were  occupied  by  our  wealthiest  mer- 
chants and  most  respectable  people.  The  hotel  now  on  the 
corner  of  Broadway  and  Battery  Place  at  that  time  was  the 
city  residence  of  old  Mr.  Prime,  of  whom  we  have  spoken.  Of 
an  afternoon  the  Battery  was  crowded  with  children  accom- 
panied by  their  parents,  or  sometimes  only  by  their  nurses. 
Young  ladies  of  the  first  respectability  took  their  morning  or 
afternoon  walks  unattended.  No  outrage  was  ever  known  or 
dreamed  of.  What  a  contrast  with  the  dirty,  filthy  Battery  of 
the  present  day,  when  it  is  almost  as  much  as  a  man's  life  18 
worth  to  go  upon  the  Battery,  and  a  female  could  not  walk 
across  it  without  being  grossly  insulted.  In  losing  the  bat- 


VIGOR.  183 

tery,  New  Yorkers  lost  one  of  the  most  invigorating  and  health- 
ful promenades  in  the  city.  No  uptown  park  or  square  can  be- 
gin to  compare  with  it. 

It  was  a  custom  of  Marion  Monck,  after  he  removed  to  Mr. 
Granville's  house,  to  rise  early  in  the  morning  and  go  out  upon 
the  Battery  for  a  stroll.  He  was  generally  accompanied  by 
Isabella  Granville,  and  these  occasions  were  seized  upon  to 
converse  with  all  the  sincerity  of  a  young  attachment  upon 
their  future  hopes  of  happiness.  It  was  a  very  difficult  matter 
for  Isabella  to  persuade  Marion,  who  detested  concealment, 
to  keep  from  her  parent  the  real  state  of  matters.  But  she  did 
succeed  in  doing  so,  and  although  Mr.  Granville  could  see 
them  walking  upon  the  Battery  from  his  windows,  yet  it  never 
crossed  his  mind  for  a  moment  that  there  was  the  slightest 
danger  to  the  peace  of  mind  of  his  daughter  from  such  an  in- 
tercourse. One  beautiful  morning,  while  Marion  and  Isabella 
were  promenading  what  is  called  the  lovers'  walk,  they  were 
met  by  Miss  Benson.  Isabella  and  the  latter  lady  embraced 
each  other  affectionately,  and  Bell  insisted  that  Margaret 
should  join  them,  and  then  go  a»d  take  a  breakfast.  Miss  Ben- 
son agreed  to  promenade  with  them,  but  positively  refused  to 
go  to  the  house  afterwards.  "  I  don't  like  Aunt  Kate,  Isabella, 
and  my  feelings  are  fully  reciprocated,  I  am  well  aware." 
They  then  had  been  walking  up  and  down  several  times,  and 
finally  took  the  outer  walk  nearest  the  water.  The  young  la- 
dies noticed  some  boat  off  in  the  river,  and  stopped,  watching 
its  motion ;  while  doing  so,  both  leaned  over  the  wooden  fence 
or  railing.  Marion  stopped  in  his  walk,  and  was  waiting  for 
his  two  companions  to  proceed,  when  a  gentleman  walked  up 
to  him  and  asked  him  if  he  was  not  Mr.  Monck. 

"  I  am,"  was  the  reply. 

"  My  name,  sir,  is  Gaillard." 

In  an  instant  Marion  recognized  him,  for  he  had  seen  him 
twice  at  the  time  Mr.  Nordheim  was  injured  at  the  Opera 
House. 

"  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  sir  You  have  been  absent  from 
town  since — since  " — 

"  I  know  what  you  would,  say.  Yes,  sir.  I  have  been  home 
to  South  Carolina.  By  the  way,  you  are  from  my  own  State. 
I  heard  of  you  frequently  in  Charleston."  Marion  bowed  and 
replied, 

•*  Yes,  sir  ;  I  am  also  from  that  State." 

Here  the  two  young  ladies  seemed  ready  to  walk  again.    Ma- 


184  VIGOR. 

rion  wished  to  ask  Mr.  Gaillard  some  further  questions,  and  he 
at  once  preaented  him  to  both  ladies. 

"  Will  you  walk  with  us,  sir  ?"  inquired  Marion. 

Mr.  Gaillard  consented  willingly,  and  each  took  the  outside 
of  the  two  ladies,  Mr.  Gaillard  on  the  side  of  Miss  Benson. 
The  conversation  became  general  and  very  interesting.  Mr. 
Gaillard  told  of  many  matters  that  had  occurred  in  South  Car- 
olina, (for  it  was  when  nullification  had  a  foothold  in  that 
State)  \vhich  were  entirely  new  to  Marion.  Finally  Miss  Ben- 
son, who  had  been  looking  at  Mr.  Gaillard  very  earestlyp 
ceased  walking  and  said.  "  I  am  sure  'I  am  not  mistaken.  Why, 
you  are  the  gentleman  that  kil that  injured  Mr.  Nordheim." 

"  Mr.  Gaillard  bowed  and  said,  "  I  am  that  unfortunate  per- 
son." 

"  Unfortunate,"  repeated  the  lady.  "I  do  not  know  why 
you  should  call  yourself  untortunate.  You  acted  bravely,  and 
protected  your  sister  from  insult  as  a  gallant  gentleman  should 
do.  I  like  you  all  the  better  for  that  affair,  and  I  assure  you 
that  I  consider  myself  highly  honored  by  forming  your  ac- 
quaintance ;  Marion,  I  am  really  much  obliged  to  you.  What 
do  you  say,  Miss  Isabella  ?" 

"  I  am  pleased  to  make  Mr.  Gaillard's  acquaintance.  I 
thought  I  bad  seen  him  before,  but  I  could  not  remember 
when  and  where.  You  were  pointed  out  to  me  that  dreadful 
night.  I  almost  hear  the  scream  that  Mr.  Nordheim  gave.  But 
I  never  blamed  you.  Even  my  father,  sir,  said  you  did  per- 
fectly right." 

Mr.  Gaillard  bowed  again,  and  made  some  inquiries  after  Mr. 
Granville,  whom  he  said  he  met  at  the  hospital  the  day  Mr. 
Nordheim  died. 

"  It  is  about  time,  Miss  Isabel,  for  us  to  go  home  to  our 
breakfast.  I  see  the  girl  is  waving  a  handkerchief  on  the  steps 
as  a  signal.  Will  you  go  with  us,  sir  ?" 

"  I  must  decline.  I  am  placed  rather  delicately.  Remem- 
ber Mr.  Nordheim  was  Mr.  Granville's  partner,  and  my  pres- 
ence may  bring  unpleasant  memories  to  him,"  answered  Mr. 
Gaillard. 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Miss  Benson  ;  "  don't  decline  on  that  ac- 
count. Mr.  Granville  is  not  so  excruciatingly  sensitive  as  all 
that  comes  to.  So  long  as  you  had  not  killed  him,  he  don't 
care.  I  rather  think  he  was  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  giv- 
ing Nordheim  that  blow." 

"  Miss  Benson,  how  can  you  apeak  in  that  manner  of  my 
father  ?  It  is  very  unkind  of  you.  Well,  if  you  will  not  ac- 


VIGOR.  1 55 

company  us,  Miss  Benson,  nor  you,  Mr.  Gailard,   we  must   go 
home  without  you." 

"  If  Miss  Benson  will  permit  me  to  continue  to  be  her  es- 
cort, I  shall  be  quite  happy,"  said  Mr.  Gaillard. 

"  Very  happy,  indeed  ;  and  if  you  will  escort  me  as  far  as  my 
home,  I  shall  be  happy  to  have  you  take  breakfast  with  my 
good  folks.  My  worthy  papa  is  rather  disposed  to  like  you, 
and  as  you  are  from  the  next  State  to  the  one  in  which  my 
mother  was  born,  she  will  be  charmed  to  meet  you.  So  good- 
bye, Bell.  Good  morning,  Marion." 

Mutual  good-byes  were  exchanged,  and  while  Marion  re- 
turned to  No.  9  State  street  with  Isabella,  Mr.  Graillard  and 
Miss  Benson  continued  on  up  Broadway. 

"  Miss  Benson,  I  consider  myself  one  of  the  most  fortunate 
of  individuals,  in  becoming  personally  acquainted  with  you  this 
morni  ig.  I  have  desired  to  know  you  for  a  longer  period  than 
you  are  aware  of.  I  first  noticed  you  that  night  at  the  Opera. 
I  have  since  frequently  met  you,  and  I  hope  you  will  excuse 
my  frankness  when  I  say  that  it  had  not  been  with  the  hope 
of  being  introduced  to  you,  I  should  not  have  made  myself 
known  to  Mr.  Monck." 

"  Indeed,"  replied  Miss  Benson,  "  I  feel  extremely  flattered. 
I  certainly  could  not  have  supposed  for  a  moment  that  Mr. 
Gaillard  was  aware  such  a  person  as  Margaret  Benson  was  in 
existence  until  this  morning  " 

The  couple  continued  the  conversation  until  they  reached 
the  residence  of  Colonel  Benson.  It  was  with  some  difficulty 
that  Miss  Benson  persuaded  the  young  South  Carolinian  to 
enter  her  father's  residence  at  so'unusual  an  hour,  but  she  suc- 
ceeded, and  her  happy  manner  of  making  him  acquainted  with 
her  parents  and  her  brother,  soon  made  him  perfectly  at  his 
ease.  Mr.  Benson  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  talk  about 
the  South,  and  the  Colonel,  it  would  almost  appear,  was  de- 
lighted at  meeting  the  gentleman  who  had  so  opportunely  rid 
the  world  of  Nordlieim. 

"  It  was  really  quite  a  godsend  to  Mr.  Granville,  I  assure 
you.  It  could  not  have  happened  better,  for  Mr.  Nordheim 
was  a  bold,  bad  man.  He  certainly  cared  neither  for  God  nor 
the  devil.  If  he  had  not  died  when  he  did,  I  am  quite  sure 
Mr.  Granville  would  have  been  obliged  to  have  dissolved  his 
commercial  connexion  with  him,  and  these  dissolutions  are 
always  troublesome  affairs.  Nordheim  got  killed,  and  all  diffi- 
culty was  at  an  end.  I  am  really  quite  pleased  to  meet  with 


1S6  VIGOR. 

you,  and  I  hope  you  will  frequently  visit  us.   We  shall  always 
be  happy  to  see  you." 

The  Colonel's  invitation  was  warmly  seconded  by  his  amia- 
ble partner,  and  when  the  breakfast  was  over,  and  it  was  time 
for  Mr.  Gaillard  to  leave,  he  was  obliged  to  give  his  address, 
and  promise  that  he  would  call  very  soon  again.  It  will  be 
easily  supposed  that  Prank  Gaillard  gave  a  willing  promise  to 
comply  with  such  a  pressing  ipvitation.  Mr.  Gaillard  gave  his 
address  as  at  the  City  Hotel.  Such  was  not  the  fact  however. 
A  year  previous,  this  gay  youth  had  taken  a  house  in  Wooster 
street,  not  far  from  Canal.  !£he  rent  was  five  hundred  dollars. 
He  had  furnished  it  handsomely,  and  employed  a  very  intelli- 
gent colored  woman  to  keep  house  for  him.  He  had  arranged 
that  his  letters  should  be  sent  to  the  City  Hotel,  and  every  day 
he  called  there  for  them. 

Probably  one  of  the  most  accomplished  seducers,  and  one  of 
the  most  successful  ones  that  ever  visited  New  York,  was  this 
same  Frank  Gaillard.  He  was  an  only  son.  His  father  died 
when  he  was  quite  young,  and  left  him  a  large  property  ;  but 
in  addition  to  this,  he  inherited  from  an  aunt  a  large  plantation 
in  St.  John  Berkley  Parish,  on  Cooper  river,  a  large  rice  plan- 
tation, and  about  three  hundred  slaves.  This,  when  he  became 
of  age,  he  left  under  the  charge  of  an  overseer  named  Frede- 
ricks, who  was  both  honest  and  capable  of  planting  successfully. 
The  young  Gaillard,  when  in  the  South,  resided  mostly  with 
his  mother,  who  lived  on  a  plantation  some  twenty  miles  dis- 
tant from  his  own.  He  also  owned  a  magnificent  residence  in 
Charleston,  where  his  mother  and  sister  resided  a  portion  of 
the  year,  when  the  country  fever  prevailed  on  the  plantations. 
The  family  also  owned  an  upland  cotton  plantation  near  Green- 
ville, and  frequently  the  mother  and  sister  passed  the  summer 
season  in  the  up  country.  Not  so  Frank.  He  had  been  edu- 
cated at  the  North,  and  graduated  at  Yale  College,  New  Ha- 
ven, with  a  fair  standing.  While  pursuing  his  studies  at  Yale, 
he  had  frequent  opportunities  of  visiting  New  York,  and  it 
was  there  that  he  acquired  habits  of  dissipation,  and  a  love  for 
illicit  and  animal  pleasures.  He  could  gamble,  but  he  was  too 
cool-blooded  to  ever  be  injured  by  it.  He  could  not  have  be- 
come a  professional  gambler.  He  was  a  splendid  specimen  of 
a  man.  Added  to  this,  was  a  power  of  conversation  beyond 
that  of  almost  any  man  we  ever  met.  He  was  perfectly  irre- 
sistible when  he  chose  to  be  so,  and  could  fascinate  any  one, 
man  or  woman,  who  came  within  his  circle.  This  latter  power, 
when  combined  with  a  total  want  of  principle,  a  perfect  reck- 


VIGOR.  1 87 

lecsness  of  consequences,  and  a  courage  that  was  unquestioned, 
made  him,  where  females  were  concerned,  a  most  dangerous 
acquaintance.  He  spared  no  pains,  no  money,  no  labor,  no 
patience,  when  he  undertook  to  ruin  and  seduce  a  young  and 
lovely  girl.  Her  rank  or  her  position  in  society  was  no  bar  or 
safety  guard  against  his  designs.  The  poor  working  girl  with- 
o.ut  a  dollar  or  a  friend,  or  the  daughter  of  the  wealthiest  mer- 
chant or  most  powerful  statesman,  were  equally  insecure  against 
his  lustful  passions.  He  regarded  them  as  fair  game,  and 
•while  he  would  have  scorned  to  have  his  honor  questioned,  or 
his  veracity  doubted,  and  would  have  fought  knee  deep  in  J)iood 
with  any  one  who  questioned  either,  yet  when  the  ruin  of  a 
female  was  to  be  effected,  truth,  honor,  all  was  forgotten.  The 
basest  falsehoods,  the  most  solemn  promises,  the  most  sacred 
influences  were  brought  to  bear.  He  kept  house  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  get  virtuous  and  respectable  girls  or  married 
women  to  visit  there.  He  went  so  far  as  to  invite  them  to  call 
and  visit  his  mother,  who,  it  is  needless  to  add,  never  saw  the 
inside  of  his  residence.  When  once  the  poor  victim  was  en- 
snared inside  those  parlors,  her  ruin  was  effected  ;  for  then, 
when  she  was  startled  at  not  meeting  his  mother,  he  would  tell 
the  poor  girl  that  it  was  all  a  farce — that  his  mother  was  not 
there,  but  that  it  was  a  house  of  the  worst  kind,  and  then 
threaten  her  with 'exposure  if  she  did  not  submit  to  his  base 
purposes.  After  all  this  coaxing  and  threats,  he  laid  aside  all 
further  mild  measures,  and  resorted  to  force,  and  generally 
succeeded.  He  used  wines — and  if  these  failed  he  resorted  to 
drugged  wines.  He  boasted  that  no  girl  or  married  woman 
ever  left  his  house  in  Wooster  street  except  she  left  him  a  full 
conqueror. 

The  very  intelligent  reader  may  say  that  such  a  character 
could  not  exist  in  New  York  a  day  or  a  month,  and  pursue  un- 
punished so  high-handed  a  game.  His  power  seemed  almost 
miraculous  in  this  regard  ;  his  oily  tongue,  when  once  his  ob- 
ject had  been  accomplished,  would  seem  capable  of  extenuating 
and  procuring  forgiveness  from  injured  victims  for  the  most 
atrocious  rape  ;  and  this  horrid  crime,  which  not  once,  but  iu 
dozens  of  cases,  seemed  to  fix  permanently  the  attachment  of 
the  wronged  one.  Then  he  was  liberal  with  his  money,  and 
had  an  abundance  of  it  to  be  liberal  with.  Never  in  any  one 
instance  was  the  notice  of  the  authorities  called  to  his  villain- 
ous acts.  Even  had  it  been  otherwise,  his  money  and  his 
power  of  persuasion  would  have  been  placed  in  requisition 
and  he  would  have  gone  scot  free.  Of  these  acts,  vile  as  thej 


188  VIGOR. 

were,  he  was  never  ashamed  ;  but  in  company  with  male  friends 
he  would  openly  boast  of  his  having  seduced  that  young  lady, 
or  of  having  debauched  such  a  married  woman  ;  would  give 
names  and  dates,  and  all  the  attending  circumstances. 

On  one  occasion,  at  a  dinner,  he  made  use  of  a  lady's  name 
in  such  a  connection.  A  gentleman  arose,  and  said,  "  If  Mr. 
Gaillard  has  told  the  truth,  he  is  a  scoundrel.  If  he  has  not, 
he  is  not  only  a  scoundrel,  but  a  vile  liar  to  boot."  Gaillard 
knocked  him  down.  A  challenge  was  the  consequence,  and  the 
opponent  of  the  renowned  seducer  was  made  a  cripple  for  the 
rest  of  his  life,  for  his  free  speech. 

M*.  Gaillard  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mac  Neil.  It  was 
he  who  was  relieved  of  some  financial  difficulty  by  the  Colonel, 
and  he  repaid  him  when  Mac  needed  it.  He  continued  to  meet 
the  Colonel  frequently,  invited  him  to  dine,  gave  him  a  scat 
in  a  box  at  the  theatre  often,  and  would  have  loaned  the  Col- 
onel money.  It  was  a  custom  of  Gaillard's,  when  he  met  Col- 
onel Mac  Neil  at  any  of  the  gambling  saloons,  to  furnish  him 
with  funds  to  try  his  luck  on  their  joint  account. 

This  same  Francis  Gaillard  was  the  Southern  gentleman  who 
had  been  introduced  on  the  morning  to  Miss  Isabella  Benson, 
and  was  so  cordially  received  by  her  parents.  Young  Benson 
knew  nothing  of  his  character  or  his  antecedents.  Frank 
Gaillard's  position  in  society  was  unquestioned.  He  was  in- 
vited to  the  most  select  parties,  and  associated  with  the  high- 
est. You  may  know  what  sort  of  a  character  he  bore.  On  a 
particular  occasion  he  was  introduced  to  a  family  where  tliere 
•was  a  lovely  daughter.  She  had  a  lover  who  knew  Gaillard. 
With  much  frankness  he  informed  Gaillard  that  he  had  told  the 
girl  in  question  and  her  parents  exactly  his  character. 

"  I  told  them,  Gaillard,  that  you  had  ruined  many  girls,  and 
was  the  greatest  libertine  alive." 

"  Had  I  a  design  to  ruin  your  fair  flower,  my  dear  sir,  I 
snould  feel  much  obliged  for  your  paving  the  way  by  giving 
me  such  a  character." 

"  How  so  1     What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Gaillard  ?" 

"  Simply  this.  Your  intended  is  a  simple-hearted,  innocent 
girl.  She  believes  you  to  be  a  moral  and  a  safe  man.  She 
never  thinks  of  you  in  any  other  light,  or  in  connection  with 
any  unusual  feeling  connected  with  her  own  passions.  You 
give  me  an  immoral  character.  I  meet  her,  for  the  moment ; 
she  sees  me  ;  her  head  is  occupied  with  funny  ideas.  She  is 
agitated.  She  is  canvassing  over  the  subject,  wondering  who 
the  victims  are — whether  she  knows  them — what  would  be  her 


VIGOR.  ISO 

fate  if  she  too  were  a  victim.  The  ico  is  broKen — if  she  has 
one  naughty  thought,  it  will  grow  into  fruit.  Time  and  oppor- 
tunity only  is  needed.  She  don't  need  me  to  break  down  the 
barriers  by  a  free  and  unrestrained  conversation  upon  forbid- 
den subjects.  She  expects  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  if  she  puts 
herself  within  my  reach.  I  have  no  design  upon  your  fair 
fiance,  but  I  tell  you,  if  I  had,  you  have  paved  the  way  for 
me.  It  is  a  bad  policy  for  a  young  fellow  to -ever  try  to  injure 
a  rival,  by  telling  the  girl  that  a  rival  suitor  is  immoral  and  a 
libertine.  Much  better  tell  her  that  the  rival  is  secretly  a 
saint,  and  says  his  prayers  three  times  a  day,  and  reads  a  chap- 
ter in  the  New  Testament  when  he  goes  to  bed,  and  one  of 
David's  Psalms  when  he  gets  up  at  daylight." 

Frank  Gaillard  in  this  very  case  forgot,  his  resolution,  for  in 
less  than  three  weeks  he  did  seduce  the  intended  bride  of  his 
friend,  and  she  eventually  became  a  poor  miserable  girl  of  the 
town. 

We  leave  the  career  of  this  gay  Southerner  for  a  time,  to 
begin  a  more  interesting  chapter. 


CHAPTEK    XXXIY. 

Thf  twenty-first  birth  day  of  Marion  Mwck — Mr.  Granville  gives  a  grand 
Dinntr  in  State  street — James  Gordon  Bennett  and  the  Herald — Boarding- 
house  life  in  New  York — A  capital  Story — Guillard  relates  a  Southern  Story 
in  reference  to  a  Siave,  wh')  whipped  his  Mn»ter  hy  his  own  orders,  to  see 
"  how  it  felt" — Mr.  Bennett  relates  an  Anecdote  of  his  first  Arriwil  in  the 
United  States — Songs  and  Stories — Breaking  up  of  the  Dinner  Party. 

MR.  GRANV:LLE  was  so  well  pleased  with  the  conduct  of  his 
chief  clerk,  Marion  Monck,  that  he  determined  to  show  his  ap- 
preciation of  his  character  by  giving  a  magnificent  dinner  in  his 
honor,  on  his  twenty-first  birth-day.  He  announced  his  inten- 
tion to  our  hero. 

"  Well,  I  really  feel  grateful,  Mr.  Granville,  the  more  so 
as  it  is  en^rely  unexpected  on  my  part,  and  I  cannot  realize 
that  I  have  deserved  so  much  honor  at  your  hands,"  remarked 
Marion  in  reply. 

Mr.  Granville  gave  a  short  happy  laugh,  and  said,  "  Ah, 
Marion,  all  my  dinners  in  your  favor  cannot  recompense  you 
as  you  deserve,  but  I  wish  to  know  how  many  friends  you  will 
invite  ?  I  have  but  very  few  to  come,  but  I  want  you  to  make 
out  a  good  long  list.  I  am  satisfied  that  you  will  invite  no  man 


190  VIGOR. 

to  place  his  feet  under  my  mahogany  unless  he  is  entitled  to 
be  there  as  your  friend  ;  and  I  am  quite  sure  you  have  no 
friends  who  have  not  recommended  themselves  to  your  friend- 
ship or  acquaintance  by  being  in  some  way  English  clover  at 
least." 

"I  believe  my  circle  of  acquaintances,  Mr.  G-ranville,  although 
somewhat  limited,  are  rather  clever,  and  at  least  original.  I 
have  no  particular  friends  except  at  the  counting  house,  and 
from  that  list  I  shall  invite  but  one — Mr.  Wilson,"  Marion  re- 
plied. 

"  Excellent — Wilson  is  an  original  in  his  way,  and  one  of  my 
oldest  friends  in  London.  I  am  glad  you  have  invited  him 
without  a  suggestion  from  me." 

While  Mr.  Granville  was  speaking,  Marion  took  a  pencil 
from  his  pocket,  and  wrote  on  a  piece  of  paper  a  few  names. 
Handing  it  to  Mr.  Granville,  he  remarked,  "  Here  is  a  full 
list— only  a  baker's  dozen — including  Mr.  Wilson,  of  whom 
we  have  spoken/' 

"  Very  good.  I  will  have  invitations  written  in  my  own  name, 
and  state  that  the  dinner  is  given  in  honor  of  your  birth-day," 
said  Mr.  Granville. 

'  "  Thank  you,  Mr.  Granville  ;  and  when  they  are  ready,  will 
you  be  so  good  as  to  hand  them  to  me.  Some  of  them  it  will 
be  difficult  to  find  without  my  aid  ;"  and  Marion  laughed  as  the 
idea  crossed  his  mind  of  what  a  hunt  the  porter  of  Mr.  Gran- 
ville would  have  to  find  some  of  the  names  on  the  list. 

"  I  will  do  so,  Marion,  with  pleasure.  I  have  but  four 
friends  that  I  shall  invite  on  my  own  account.  One  is  Cap- 
tain Marryatt,  who  is  stopping  down  Broadway  at  Blancard's, 
another  is  an  old  London  acquaintance  who  resides  with  his 
family  at  Staten  Island,  and  has  lately  gone  into  business  in 
this  city,  Mr.  Cubson,  and  Colonel  Benson  and  his  daughter. 
The  Colonel  is,  as  you  are  aware,  connected  officially  with  the 
British  Government.  Besides  these  four  and  your  list,  my 
daughter  and  my  sister-in-law  will  be  the  only  ladies  at  the 
table,  and  they  will  run  away  early.  I  shall  order  a  dinner 
for  twenty  persons,  and  if  I  am  not  mistaken  it  will  be  rather 
a  choice  affair,"  observed  Mr.  Granville.  ^ 

"  I  hope  it  will,  and  be  pleasant  for  you  and  agreeable  to  all 
those  invited, >;  said  Marion  ;  and  with  these  words  they  parted, 
Marion  to  attend  to  his  duties,  and  Mr.  Granville  to  carry  out 
his  ideas  in  reference  to  the  dinner  party. 

At  six  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  December  2,  183-,  the  din- 
ner given  by  Mr.  Granville  came  off  at  his  residence  in  State 


VIGOR.  v      191 

street.  It  was  a  dinner  such  as  few  could  get  up  ;  for  Mr.  Gran- 
ville  was  an  epicure  himself,  had  traveled  extensively,  and  his 
wines  were  of  the  very  choicest  quality. 

The  guests  began  to  arrive  before  six,  and  were  shown  into 
the  south  front  parlor,  which  overlooked  the  Battery.  The 
walls  were  covered  with  really  choice  paintings,  selected  with 
great  care  by  Mr.  Granville,  who  had  seen  some  of  the  best 
paintings'in  the  galleries  of  Europe,  and  was  not  likely  to  be 
deceived  in  purchasing  on  his  own  account.  Isabella  was 
seated  at  the  piano,  playing  "  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer,"  very 
much  to  the  enjoyment  of  Mr.  Cubson,  whose  jolly  red  face  and 
happy  laugh  made  a  picture  of  itself.  Miss  Benson  was  near 
the  piano,  listening  to  soft  nonsense  from  young  Gaillard  of 
South  Carolina.  In  a  recess  of  the  window  overlooking  the 
Battery  was  the  brilliant  Mrs.  Tom  Granville,  and  seated  near 
her,  apparently  engaged  in  earnest  but  low-toned  conversation, 
was  a  short  thick  set  man,  w;th  very  dark  hair,  and  very  coarse 
looking.  It  was  the  celebrated  Captain  Marryatt.  Colonel 
Benson  stood  near  them,  watching  some  object  upon  the  Bat- 
tery. He  was  tall,  slim,  pale-faced,  very  intellectual,  and  a 
perfect  gentleman  in  appearance,  but  English  from  top  to  toe. 
These  were  the  friends  that  Mr.  Granville  had  invited,  as  he 
remarked,  "  on  his  own  hook."  Scattered  around  the  room 
were  others,  invited  by  Mr.  Granville  at  the  request  of  Marion. 
As  they  arrived,  Marion  introduced  them  to  Mr.  Granville, 
who  in  turn  presented  them  to  Isabella  his  daughter. 

Distinct  couples  were  formed  all  over  the  room.  Some  ad- 
mired the  paintings,  others  listened  to  the  music,  while  others, 
who  were  previously  acquainted,  conversed  together  upon  the 
various  matters  of  the  day. 

The  party  assembled  numbered  twenty-one.  Marion  passed 
from  one  to  the  other,  endeavoring  to  make  each  one  of  his 
own  friends  at  home,  and  perfectly  at  his  ease.  He  came  near 
Mrs.  Kate  Granville,  and  she  exclaimed, 

"  Marion,  where  upon  this  earth  did  you  manage  to  pick  up 
such  a  lot  of  funny  acquaintances  ?  Who,  in  the  name  of  all 
that  is  good-looking,  are  they  T" 

"  Frietids  of  mine — clever  people  in  their  way,  and  all  are 
men  worth  knowing,"  replied  Marion. 

"  Do  introduce  me  to  that  modest,  bashful  person,  dressed 
in  black,  who  seems  afraid  of  his  own  shadow,"  said  Mrs. 
Granville. 

"  Not  now,  Aunt  Kate,  but  I  will  do  so  before   dinner  is 


192  VIGOR. 

over  ;"  and  he  bent  over  and  whispered  something  in  her  ear. 
She  actually  jumped  off  her  chair  with  astonishment. 

"  Marion,  are  you  in  earnest  ?  Is  that  so  ?  Mr.  Bennett  of 
the  Herald  ?"  she  asked  earnestly. 

"  Precisely  so,"  was  the  reply. 

"  And  is  he  going  to  dine  here  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Tom  Granville. 

"  Unquestionably  he  will,"  was  the  reply. 

Kate  Granville  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  him,  and  then 
remarked,  "  Marion,  I  am  sure  you  are  quizzing  me.  That 
gentlemanly,  quiet  person  the  notorious  Bennett !  I  don't  be- 
lieve a  word  of  it." 

Reader,  in  1834,  when  the  Herald  first  started,  the  other 
papers  made  such  unfair  onslaughts  on  the  new  comer,  as  were 
perfectly  terrific.  It  seemed  as  though  the  old  sixpenny  sheets 
had  a  presentiment,  that  unless  they  crushed  out  the  Herald 
and  Bennett,  that  it  would  be  his  destiny  to  crush  them  out. 
Some  of  the  most  worthy  people  in  the  city  had  made  up  their 
minds,  from  these  attacks,  that  Mr.  Bennett  was  a  perfect  ruf- 
fian— a  blackguard  in  looks  and  actions — a  man  who  attended 
balls,  and  sneaked  into  houses  of  ill-fame  to  get  names  of  indi- 
viduals to  attack  in  his  paper.  They  could  not  conceive  of  a 
more  base*  character  than  he  was  supposed  to  be  ;  and  the  idea 
of  inviting  Mr.  Bennett  to  a  dinner  among  gentlemen  and  ladies, 
was  considered  a  species  of  atrocity.  But  to  resume  our  writ- 
ing. It  was  now  half  past  six,  dinner  was  announced,  and  the 
entire  party  passed  into  the  dining  room.  Mr.  Granville  took 
the  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  requested  Marion  to  do 
the  honors  at  the  other  end.  The  ladies  had  seats  near  Mr. 
Grranville,  and  Marion  had  so'.ne  choice  spirits  of  the  other  sex 
to  flank  him. 

We  have  no  taste  for  describing  a  dinner.  Suffice  it  to  say, 
that  the  good  things  were  numerous,  and  served  up  in  excel- 
lent style.  The  wines  were  delicious,  and  several  healths 
were  drank  before  the  ladies  took  their  departure.  Then  Mr. 
Granville  opened  : 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  I  want  every  one  to  be  at  home  and  be 
happy.  Get  acquainted  with  each  other  the  best  way  you  can. 
And  now  let  me  propose  a  toast.  It  is  the  birth-dr.y  of  that 
young  gent  at  the  other  end  of  the  table.  He  is  twenty-one  to- 
day. Here  is  his  health — and  may  he  and  his  friends  be  as 
well  satisfied  with  him  on  his  three-score  and  tenth  birth  day 
as  we  are  on  his  twenty-first." 

All  joined,  and  drank  bumpers.     Marion  made  a  reply,  ra- 


VIGOR.  .193 

ther  confused,  for  he  was  somewhat  bashful  before   so  many, 
but  he  was  let  off  easy. 

"  Mr.  Bennett,  shall  I  have  the  pleasure  of  a  glass  of  wine 
with  you '?"  asked  Mr.  Granville.  Every  eye  was  instantly 
directed  to  Mr.  Bennett,  for  with  the  exception  of  Marion,  he 
did  not  know  a  soul  in  the  room,  and  not  one  even  knew  him 
by  sight  before  this  dinner. 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Bennett,  and  he  drank  his  wine 
and  bowed  to  Mr.  Granviile. 

"  We  all  know  the  Herald,"  continued  Mr.  Granville,  "  al- 
though to  most  of  us  this  is  the  first  time  we  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  your  personal  acquaintance." 

Mr.  Bennett  made  a  quiet  reply,  and  conversation  became 
general  again  until  Mr.  Cubson  was  called  upon  for  a  song,  and 
he  gave  in  the  most  exquisite  manner,  "  My  pretty  Jane  "  to 
the  great  delight  of  all  the  company. 

Some  one  else  was  asked,  but  refused,  and  then  Mr.  Gran- 
ville sang  a  pretty  air.  On  its  conclusion  he  observed,  "  Now 
I  have  sung  a  song,  and  therefore  it  is  perfectly  proper  that  I 
should  offer  a  resolution  that  every  one  at  this  table  shall,  in 
regular  order,  contribute  some  thing  toward  our  spending  a 
merry  evening  ;  if  he  cannot  sing  a  song,  he  must  give  us  a 
good  sentiment  or  toast,  or  tell  a  good  story.  No  one  shall  be 
let  off."  This  proposal  was  acceded  to  at  once  by  all,  and  as 
Captain  Maryatt  sat  next  to  Mr.  Granville,  it  was  his  turn 
next.  He  complied,  and  sang  a  song  called  "  Artichokes  and 
Cauliflowers,"  and  his  song  and  health  being  drunk,  the  next 
in  order  was  Marion  Monck. 

Marion  had  never  sang  a  song  in  his  life.  Speech-making^ 
was  not  his  forte,  and  he  had  never  written  a  line,  and  did  not 
know  that  he  had  it  in  him,  but  he  told  a  story.  "  I  have  been 
very  lucky,"  said  Marion,  "  since  I  came  to  New  York  to  find 
a  home,  never  having  been  but  for  a  few  days  in  a  boarding- 
house,  and  have  lived  in  the  family  of  one  of  my  employers — 
formerly  with  one  now  dead,  and  more  recently  with  the  kind 
friend,  as  well  as  employer,  who  now  presides  at  the  head  of 
this  table,"  and  he  bowed  to  Mr.  Granville,  and  then  con- 
tinued, "  but  I  had  a  friend  who  arrived  in  New  York  about 
the  same  time  I  did.  He  is  dead  now,  poor  fellow.  Board- 
ing-houses were  too  much  for  him.  When  he  was  on  his 
deuth-bed  he  said  to  me,  '  Marion,  beware  of  boarding-houses, 
pious  boarding-houses  especially,'  and  he  told  me  the  fearful 
tale  which  I  shall  repeat  as  nearly  as  I  can  remember  it,  in  his 
words.  '  My  mother  was  a  pious  woman.  I  was  an  only  child. 

9 


194  VIGOR. 

When  I  left  home,  at  the  tender  age  of  fourteen,  to  come  and 
try  my  fortune  in  this  great  metropolis  of  sin  and  commerce, 
she  was  fearful.  I  was  born  and  brought  up  in  a  beautiful 
New  England  town,  that  contained  about  four  hundred  inhab- 
itants and  four  churches  or  places  of  worship — one  Episcopal, 
one  Baptist,  one  Methodist,  one  New,  and  one  Old  School  Pres- 
byterian, and  one  Roman  Catholic.  It  was  a  pious  place. 
Every  church  had  a  bell,  and  on  Sunday  morning  was  a  jing- 
ling that  would  astonish  a  small  crowd.  My  mother  was  an 
Episcopalian,  and  I  was  brought  up  in  that  faith,  but  she  was 
a  good  woman,  and  was  herself  inclined  to  think  that  there 
might  be  pious  people  even  among  other  de'nomimitions  beside 
her  own,  but  she  was  not  certain  upon  that  point.  Religion,  as 
you  see,  coming  from  a  small  village  with  six  churches,  was  a 
starting  point  with  me  in  life.  My  mother  was  all  anxiety  to 
get  me  in  a  pious  boarding-house.  Well,  I  reached  New  York 
safely,  and  got  with  a  pious  landlady,  a  Mrs.  Bacon.  She  was 
a  sister  of  the  Tappans.  She  commenced  on  me  in  a  regular 
course.  I  had  to  be  at  prayers  in  the  morning,  and  prayers  at 
night,  and  we  had  to  stand  grace  over  a  miserable  piece  of  half 
done  beef  at  dinner,  and  bean  soup.  Grace  at  tea,  over  dish- 
water, a  slice  of  stale  bread,  rancid  butter,  and  ginger-nuts  of 
the  commonest  kind.  The  old  lady  bought  her  provisions  by 
the  cent's  worth  at  a  Dutch  grocer's.  I  remonstrated  with 
great  benevolence — told  her  that  by  buying  wholesale  she 
could  get  good  articles  and  at  a  low  figure.  She  was  grateful, 
said  she  didn't  know  any  wholesale  grocers,  begged  me  to  buy 
her  by  the  quantity  and  she  would  pay  me.  Did  so — bought 
^eighty  dollars'  worth.  Never  got  paid  to  this  day.  Insisted 
that  I  was  hard-hearted  ;  wanted  me  to  go  and  hear  Burchard 
at  the  Chatham  street  Theatre  ;  went  with  old  lady  ;  cousin 
went  with  old  lady's  pretty  daughter  ;  Burchard  went  it  strong  ; 
old  lady  got  excited  ;  rose  in  her  seat ;  audience  paused ; 
begged  Burchard  to  pray  for  a  handsome  young  sinner  by  her 
side  ;  called  me  by  name,  Harvey  Foot ;  got  up  angry  ;  begged 
Burchard  on  my  own  hook  to  pray  for  a  swindling  old  lady, 
who  had  stuck  me  eighty-five  dollars  in  groceries,  and  wouldn't 
pay  up  ;  audience  excited  ;  expelled  by  saint  members,  and 
obliged  to  quit  pious  boardingrhouses.  That  was  boarding- 
house  No.  1.'  "  When  Marion  had  reached  thus  far,  the  quaint 
manner  in  which  he  narrated  the  story — not  a  smile  upon  his 
countenance,  not  a  muscle  moved,  the  effect  was  richly  lu- 
dicrous, and  the  small  audience  actually  screamed  as  he  con- 
tinued on  with  Pious  Boarding-House  No.  2,  No.  3,  No.  4  and 


VIGOR.  195 

so.  No  one  was  more  pleased  than  Mr.  Bennett.  He  turned 
to  a  neighbor  and  remarked,  "  A  man  who  can  talk  that  way 
can  write.  He  will  make  a  clever  editor  one  of  these  days, 
that  Marion  Mouck."  When  Marion  had  finished,  he  proposed 
a  toast.  "  Health  and  long  life  to  all  pious  boarding-house 
keepers,  and  may  they  never  lack  stale  bread  or  ginger  cake 
nuts  for  their  teas."  The  toast  was  drank  with  shouts  of 
laughter.  "  As  it  is  my  turn,  gentlemen,  I  call  upon  my 
neighbor  here — neighbor  in  a  double  sense,  as  he  was  born  in 
the  same  parish  in  the  South  as  myself — Mr.  Francis  Gaillard." 
Mr.  Gaillard  arose,  and  was  excusing  himself  from  a  song, 
when  he  was  interrupted  by  Colonel  Benson.  "  Pardon,  gen- 
tlemen ;  I  beg  to  ask  Mr.  Gaillard  to  tell  us  some  story  about 
the  South — something  about  the  slaves  ;  these  are  exciting 
times.  Horrid  stories  are  told  about  the  cruelty  of  Southern 
masters.  Mr.  Gaillard  is  a  large  slave-holder.  I  hope  he  will 
give  us  an  anecdote  of  a  different  kind." 

"Thank  you,  sir,  for  the  suggestion.  I  am  not  certain  that 
a  little  story  I  can  tell  will  contain  any  thing  interesting,  or 
possess  any  especial  merit.  It  shall  have  one  advantage  over 
those  horrid  tales  of  tortured  and  murdered  slaves  ;  it  shall  be 
true.  My  father,  when  a  young  man,  had  a  favorite  slave 
named  Billy.  He  was  coachman,  and  frequently  travelled  with 
my  father,  with  or  without  the  carriage.  On  one  occasion  they 
were  in  a  boat  crossing  Cooper  river,  and  it  upset.  My  father 
had  no  more  idea  of  swimming  than  he  had  of  flying,  and  death 
by  drowning  seemed  inevitable,  but  Billy  was  not  only  a  splen- 
did swimmer,  but  a  most  powerful  man.  He  seized  hold  of 
my  father,  and  although  the  tide  was  ebbing,  yet,  after  almost 
superhuman  exertions,  he  succeeded  in  getting  his  master  and 
himself  safe  on  shore.  It  was  some  time  before  my  father 
came  to,  and  he  and  Billy  footed  it  to  the  plantation.  My 
respected  parent  and  Billy  were  nearly  of  the  same  age.  The 
fact  became  known  that  Billy  had  saved  my  governor's  life, 
and  although  it  secured  him  a  great  many  praises  and  favors 
from  other  members  of  our  family,  yet  it  never  seemed  to  alter 
my  father's  course.  He  seemed  to  have  forgot  it,  and  though 
Billy  did  pretty  much  as  he  had  a  mind  to  do,  I  do  not  remem- 
ber that  Billy  got  severely  whipped  by  my  father's  orders  ex- 
cept on  one  occasion." 

"  Whip  a  poor  negro  who  had  saved  his  master's  life  !  That 
is  gratitude  with  a  vengeance,"  muttered  the  jolly  Englishman 
Mr.  Cubson. 

"  Let  me  finish,  sir,  if  you  please,"  continued  Mr.  Gaillard. 


196  TIGOR. 

"  The  occasion  was  this.  My  father  was  somewhat  eccentric, 
but  I  ever  found  him  a  very  just  man.  He  had  an  overseer 
on  one  of  his  rice  plantations,  a  Mr.  Maice,  who  was  a  great 
hand  for  whipping.  My  father  did  not  exactly  like  it,  but 
wh«n  he  spoke  to  Maice,  the  overseer  would  say,  very  deci- 
dedly, '  It's  no  use  to  try  to  get  along,  sir,  with  niggers  unless 
you  give  them  a  lashing.  I  never  order  more  than  twenty 
lashes,  and  it  does  the  niggers  good.'  Maice  took  his  leave, 
my  father  pondered  over  the  matter  for  some  time,  and  then 
called  Billy. 

"  Billy  came. 

«  '  How  d'y,  Billy.' 

"  '  How  d'y,  Massa  Frank.' 

"  '  Billy,  go  and  get  the  overseer's  whip.'  Billy  went  and 
got  it.  '  Now  help  me  take  off  all  my  clothes,'  said  my  father. 

"  '  Gor  a  mity,  Massa  Frank,  what  you  giwine  to  do  now  ?' 
said  Billy, 

"  '  I  want  you  to  give  me  twenty  lashes,  as  hard  as  you  can 
put  it  on,  as  haid  as  Maice  whips  the  niggers,"  said  my  father. 

"  '  Why,  Massa  Frank,  wat  de  debbil  you  want  for  do  now  ? 
Get  dis  nigger  hung  ?'  replied  Billy,  who  was  very  much 
scared. 

-  "  « I  want  you  to  do  as  I  say.  If  you  dou't,  I'll  send  for  Sam, 
and  have  you  whipped,'  said  my  father. 

"'  No  ;    I  swear  God  I  can't  lick  you,  Massa,'  replied  Billy. 

"  My  father  got  in  a  rage,  and  called  in  Sam,  who  was  a  sort 
of  second  negro  chief  in  the  house.  Sam  came.  '  Sam,  I 
want  you  to  whip  Billy,'  said  my  father. 

"  '  Eli,  Billy  ?  "What  you  do  Massa  now  ?  Take  off  your 
coat.' 

"  Billy  did  so  at  once,  and  Sam  gave  him  two  or  three  good 
cuts,  when  Billy  says,  '  If  dat  is  all  you  want,  I  gib  dem  cuts 
myself.' 

"  '  Will  yon  lick  me  now,  Billy  ?'  said  my  father. 

"  '  0,  yes,  Massa.  I'll  lick  you.  Gib  me  de  whip' — and 
Billy  took  it  and  gave  his  master  two  rather  hard  cuts. 

"  '  Lick  me  harder,  you  rascal,  or  I'll  have  Sam  lick  you 
again,'  said  my  father.  Thus  admonished,  Billy  put  in  '  de 
big  licks,'  as  Sam,  who  was  a  spectator  remarked,  until  the 
quantity  was  reached,  his  master  counting  at,  every  stroke, 
one,  two,  up  to  twenty.  '  There,  Billy.  I  don't  like  it,  and 
I'll  be  damned  to  hell  if  I'll  ever  have  another  nigger  whipped 
on  my  plantation.'  And  he  never  did.  He  never  afterwards 
had  an  overseer  ;  and  if  a  negro  deserved  punishment,  he  gave 


VIGOR.  197 

the  very  worst  that  can  ever  be  given  in  the  South — it  was   to 
transfer  him  from  one  plantation  to  another, 

"  But  to  return  to  Billy.  My  father  died.  When  his  will 
was  opened,  it  was  found  to  contain  a  clause  stating  that  many 
years  ago  Billy  Gaillard  saved  his  life,  and  that  he  bequeathed 
to  him,  first,  his  freedom,  second,  the  sum  of  five  hundred  dol- 
lars per  annum,  to  paid  quarterly  at  the  Bank  of  Charleston,  a 
house  onahe  plantation,  a  horse  every  year,  and,  as  he  wished 
Billy  to  continue  to  work  on  the  plantation,  he  was  to  receive 
pay  for  whatever  he  did  from  my  father's  successor,  myself. 
There  is  not  a  more  independent  gentleman  in  the  South,  sir, 
than  Billy  Gaillard.  When  I  am  at  home,  he  is  always  near 
me — lectures  and  scolds  me  as  if  I  were  a  child. — Ifus  mar- 
ried off  his  family,  has  lots  of  children,  and  is  more  re- 
spected than  ever  was  a  patriarch  in  Bible  times.  He 
has  but  one  weakness  —  when  he  goes  to  Charleston  to  get 
his.  quarterly  dues,  he  generally  manages  to  get  moderately 
drunk.  He  frequently  speculates,  and  makes  more  money 
than  his  income.  He  makes  all  his  sons  and  daughters  com- 
fortable, and  gives  them  many  presents,  but  has  never  been 
know  to  even  dream  of  buying  any  of  them  their  freedom, 
although  he  has  the  means  to  do  it ;  for  he  has  saved  and  in- 
vested money  for  a  great  many  years,  and  owns  hnlf-a-dozen 
valuable  houses  in  Charleston  that  lie  rents  out  and  receives 
quite  an  income  from.  Gentlemen,  I  hope  I  have  contributed 
a  little  to  passing  away  a  pleasant  time.  I  will  conclude  with 
a  toast.  I  give — 

"  '  The  health  of  every  Northern  Abolitionist  who  will  go 
South  and  see  the  Institution  of  Slavery  as  it  really  exists  '  ' 
.  The  story  was  warmly  received,  and  the  comical  idea  of  the 
toast  made  all  laugh.  Even  old  Cubson  growled  out  that  he 
was  afraid  the  healths  of  any  northern  gentlemen  who  mncle 
such  an  excursion  would  not  be  greatly  benefitted.  Mr. 
Gaillard  called  upon  Mr.  Bennett  for  his  quota.  Mr.  Bennett 
very  quietly  remarked, 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  not  much  of  a  hand  to  tell  a  stor3r,  but  I 
would  rather  be  guilty  of  telling  a  stupid  one  than  to  lack  the 
courtesy  of  trying  to  contribute  my  share  to  the  general  mirth 
and  amusement.  The  story  told  about  pious  boarding-house 
keepers,  but  the  more  especially  the  description  of  the  New 
England  village  of  lour  hundred  inhabitants  and  six  distinct 
houses  of  worship,  reminds  me  of  an  adventure  in  one  of  the 
game  sort  of  towns,  and  I  will  try  and  narrate  it.  Some  time 
after  I  had  arrived  in  this  country  I  found  myself  in  Boston, 


198  VIGOR. 

and  with  but  little  to  do.  I  determined  to  travel  into  the  in- 
terior and  see  if  I  could  not  pick  up  something.  I  had  a  good 
education,  and  I  had  heard  that  school  teachers  were  in  re- 
quest. I  will  make  my  story  as  concise  as  possible,  and  with- 
out going  into  details,  will  mention  simply  that  I  found  myself 
in  some  such  place  in  Connecticut  as  Mr.  Monck  has  des- 
cribed. The  to\yn  was  divided  into  three  school  districts,  as 
they  call  them.  The  middle  district  required  a  "  sohool  mas- 
ter," that  is  the  designation  in  Yankee  land,  and  not  school 
teacher.  I  offered  my  services  to  become  the  school  master. 
It  was  necessary  to  see  the  Committee,  and  I  applied  to  them 
for  the  situation.  They  consisted  of  a  Presbyterian  clergy- 
man, acquire  Phelps,  and  Deacon  Botsford.  After  some  con- 
siderable bother,  an  hour  was  appointed  when  the  School  Com- 
mittee met.  I  was  there  punctually  at  the  time.  The  school- 
house  was  a  little  one-story  building,  painted  red  outside,  and 
the  inside  was  covered  with  all  sorts  of  drawings  and  orna- 
ments made  by  ambitious  scholars.  Presently  the  important 
Committee  arrived  one  by  one.  At  last  the  solemn  business 
was  opened.  Squire  Phelps  asked  if  I  was  the  '  young  man  ' 
who  was  anxious  to  take  charge  of  that  district  school.  I  re- 
plied in  the  most  amiable  and  seductive  manner  that  I  was  the 
person.  '  Deacon,  we  must  examine  whether  he  is  capable  of 
taking  charge  of  our  school.'  The  deacon  grunted  an  affirma- 
tive— and  then  commenced  such  an  examination  as  was  never 
heard  of  before.  I  was  asked  how  cheap  T  would  act — whether 
I  would  board  round  among  the  parents  of  the  scholars — and 
whether  I  could  measure  wood.  I  got  along  very  well  and 
quite  satisfactorily  until  the  clergyman  asked  me,  '  What  is 
your  religion,  Mr.  Bennett  ?'  I  replied  that  I  was  a  Catholic. 
Then  the  three  committee  men  took  a  general  stare  at  me,  and 
afterwards  at  each  other.  'Where  are  you  from?'  was  the 
next  question.  I  did  not  think,  but  replied  simply,  '  From 
Scotland.'  '  0  yes — I  know  where  that  is.  It  is  up  near  Mid- 
dletown,  in  Windham  County.'  There  is,  I  have  since  learned, 
a  town  called  New  Scotland  somewhere  in  that  region.  I  was 
requested  to  retire.  I  did  so,  but  was  soon  called  back.  '  Mr. 
Bennett,  we  have  consulted  together  in  reference  to  your  ap- 
plication, and  after  examination,  very  impartially  conducted, 
we  are  obliged  to  decline  your  offer,  as  we  do  not  consider  you 
competent  to  teach  this  district  school.' 

"  Gentlemen,"  continued  Mr.  Bennett,  "  you  may  form  some 
idea  of  my  mortification.  I  assure  you,  I  never  applied  since 
for  a  school  teacher's  berth.  Yet  I  believe  I  am  possessed  of 


VIGOR.  199 

some  ability,  but  it  has  taken  a  new  direction.  I  have,  as  most 
of  you  are  aware,  started  a  new  enterprise,  and  in  the  Herald 
I  have  had  great  success.  I  can  assure  you,  that  by  the  regis- 
ter I  now  circulate  up  in  Connecticut  over  twenty-five  hundred 
copies  of  iny  paper  daily,  and  I  believe  I  may  say  that  that  day 
will  come,  improbable  as  it  may  seem,  when  I  will  issue  ten 
thousand  co-pies  of  the  daily  Herald.  I  will  give  you  a  senti- 
ment, '  A  new  era  in  Journalism.'  " 

It  was  drank  with  enthusiasm  ;  and  the  idea  of  a  man  of  Mr. 
Bennett's  acknowledged  cleverness  to  have  been  rejected  as  a 
Yankee  schoolmaster,  was  perfectly  rich  and  refreshing.  Mr. 
Bennett  hoped  that  Colonel  Mac  Neil  would  take  his  turn  at 
the  oar.  The  Colonel  said  he  should  not  trespass  long  upon 
their  time — that  he  was  happy  to  meet  with  Mr.  Bennett — that 
the  Herald  was  giving  new  life  to  the  community,  and  was 
making  itself  felt,  and  he  hoped  it  would  reach  a  circulation 
of  ten  thousand  daily,  but  that  he  supposed  was  an  utter 
impossibility,  an  extravagant  idea,  that  Mr.  Bennett  could 
hardly  expect  would  be  realized  in  many  years,  if  ever.  "  I 
cannot  sing  you  but  one  song,  gentlemen — I  will  try  that ;" 
and  Mac  Neil  sang  with  good  taste  and  feeling,  "  My  Heart's 
in  the  Highlands/' 

The  company  had  by  this  time  become  quite  excited.  Songs, 
stories  and  toasts  followed  each  other  in  quick  succession,  un- 
til nearly  midnight,  when  it  was  proposed  that  all  should  join 
in  the  good  old  song  of  "  Good  night,  and  God  be  with  us  all." 
All  were  in  good  spirits,  but  no  one  was  quite  intoxicated,  at 
least  to  such  an  extent  as  not  to  be  able  to  find  his  way  home. 
When  the  party  broke  up,  Marion  retired  to  his  room.  A  new 
life  was  before  him — he  was  twenty-one  years  old. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Of  age — "/  am  twenty-one  " — Anxuty  to  get  into  Business— Monck's  salary 
raised — Mr.  Granville's  Promists — Mr.  Wilson  to  be  taken  as  a  Partner — 
Mrs.  Torn  Granville's  advice  to  Marion  Monck  respecting  her  Xiece — Ma- 
rion is  astonished  —  Concludes  to  make  a  Corifidant  of  the  Count  False- 
chinski. 

"  I  AM  of  age."  "  I  am  twenty-one  years  old."  "  I  am  a 
man  legally."  "I  am  a  citizen."  What  important  sentences 
in  the  career  of  every  male — what  an  epoch  in  the  life  of  every 
man  !  Americans  are  not  like  Europeans,  content  to  slave  on 


200  VIGOR. 

for  a  period  of  years  in  clerkship,  until  the  seasons  of  youth 
and  middle  age  are  passed,  and  old  age  reached  without  a  hope 
or  desire  of  bettering  their  condition,  or  of  taking  the  chance 
of  bettering  it,  by  going  into  business  upon  their  own  account, 
becoming  principals  and  employers  themselves.  It  is  a  strong 
characteristic  of  the  general  American  mind.  He  docs  not  con- 
sider himself  settled  in  life  until  he  is  in  business  on  his  own 
hook.  He  never  dreams  oT  getting  married  until  he  is  his  own 
employer.  A  young  clerk's  highest  ambition  is  to  get  into 
business  upon  his  own  account,  so  soon  as'  he  is  twenty  one 
years  old.  From  this  cause  spring  a  thousand  fearful  evils  in 
a  commercial  community.  Half  the  failures  that  occur  to  per- 
sons engaged  in  mercantile  pursuits  can  be  traced  to  this 
going  into  business  at  an  early  age,  before  experience  justifies 
it.  Could  all  the  young  men  who  have  gone  into  business 
upon  their  own  account  in  New  York  city  before  they  reached 
twenty-five  years,  be  traced  out,  it  would  be  found  that  they 
have  failed  where,  had  they  been  content  to  gain  experience  as 
clerks  until  they  were  thirty  years  of  age,  their  after  success 
would  probably  have  been  certain.  The  Jews  are  a  se-nsible 
people  in  this  regard.  Their  children  don't  take  upon  them- 
selves the  responsibilities  of  men  until  they  reach  thirty.  Our 
blessed  Lord  and  Saviour  did  not  separate  himself  from  paren- 
tal control  until  he  was  thirty. 

Marion  Monck  was  not  destined  to  be  an  exception  to  the 
general  rule.  He  had  reached  twenty-one,  and  he  began  to 
think  that  it  was  high  time  to  get  into  business.  The  next 
morning  after  the  dinner,  Mr.  Granville  informed  him  that  his 
salary  in  future  would  be  one  thousand  dollars  per  annum. 
"  As  you  will  continue  to  reside  at  my  house  without  any  ex- 
pense to  yourself,  you  ought  to  be  able  to  lay  aside  some 
money  every  year,  Marion.  Are  your  parents  in  a  situation  to 
give  you  any  capital  to  start  in  business,  when  your  experi- 
ence justifies  such  a  step  ?" 

"  Indeed  they  arc  not.  They  might  raise  a  small  sum,  but 
I  would  never  consent  to  it.  I  must  depend  upon  my  own  ex- 
ertions," replied  Marion. 

"  And  a  better  reliance  no  man  can  want  in  this  country, 
my  boy.  If  you  go  on  gaining  commercial  information,  it  will 
be  of  use  to  you  some  day.  Water  will  find  its  own  level,  and 
so  will  business  experience,  capability,  honesty,  and  activity. 
You  possess  all  of  the  qualifications,  and  all  you  have  to  do  is 
to  pursue  a  straightforward  course*  and  you  will  gain  a  foot- 
hold in  the  commercial  world  sooner  or  later.  I  ain  not  jusli- 


VIGOR.  201 

fied  in  saying  what  my  intentions  are  towards  you  eventually, 
but  if  you  should  remain  with  me  a  few  years  longer,  and 
should  then  wish  to  go  into  business,  I  shall  take  great,  pleas- 
ure in  forwarding  your  views.  Very  likely  I  shall  hear  of 
some  person  who  has  capital  who  would  be  willing  to  form  a 
partnership  with  you,  because  you  have  such  good  business 
qualifications." 

Marion  had  not  lost  a  word  of  all  this  speech,  which  was  an 
unusually  long  one  for  Mr.  Granville  to  make.  He  was  pleased 
with  it,  and  yet  displeased.  It  was  cold,  and  strictly  mercan- 
tile. It  gave  him  no  hope  of  the  future,  so  far  as  becoming 
interested  in  the  business  of  Mr.  Granville  was  concerned.  It 
seemed  to  remove  Isabella  to  an  immeasurable  distance  from 
his  reach,  but  still  he  thanked  his  employer  for  his  good  inten- 
tions. 

"  I  shall  soon  make  a  change  in  the  style  of  the  firm  ;  and 
as  I  regard  you  as  my  confidential  clerk,  I  will  communicate 
rny  intentions  to  you.  On  the  first  of  January  next  Mr. 'Wil- 
son will  be  taken  into  the  firm,  which  will  then  be  Granville  & 
Wilson." 

Marion  now  expressed  his  sincere  satisfaction,  and  asked  if 
he  might  congratulate  Mr.  Wilson  upon  his  good  fortune,  when 
he  met  him  at  the  office.  "  He  said  nothing  to  me  about  it  at 
dinner  yesterday.  In  fact  he  never  opened  his  lips  about  any 
thing." 

"  No — Wilson  is  not  very  talkative.  A  very  excellent  qual- 
ity too  in  a  man.  But  as  he  has  said  nothing  to  you,  I  don't 
think  you  had  better  say  any  thing  to  him.  I  suppose  that  you 
know  he  is  living  at  Mrs.  Nordheim's  house  ?"  observed  Mr. 
Granville. 

"  I  really  did  not  know  it.  When  did  he  go  up  there  1" 
asked  Marion. 

"  Very  recently.  I  may  as  well  inform  you  that  I  did  not 
agree  to  take  Mr.  Wilson  into  the  house  because  of  his  ser- 
vices, or  of  his  personal  importance  to  me.  I  have  known  him 
a  great  many  years.  He  is  a  reliable,  excellent  man,  and  a 
most  accomplished  bookkeeper.  He  will  owe  his  becoming  my 
partner  solely  to  Mrs.  Nordheim.  I  made  a  promise  to  Mr. 
Nordheim  that  i  would  take  into  partnership  any  one  that  his 
wife  should  recommend.  She  has  expressed  her  wishes  de- 
cidedly in  favor  of  Mr.  Richard  Wilson.  She  also  furnishes 
him  with  a  capital  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  put  in  the  new 
firm.  Under  these  circumstances  Mr.  Wilson  will  be  admitted 
a  partner.  If  Mrs.  Nordheim  had  expressed  the  wish  that  you 

9* 


202  VIGOR. 

should  have  been  associated  with  me,  it  would  have  given  me 
pleasure  to  have  taken  you  into  partnership.  I  am  a  little  sur- 
prised that  she  did  not  do  so.  It  has  appeared  to  me  that  you 
were  a  great  favorite  in  that  quarter.  Had  you  any  disagree- 
ment with  her  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Granville. 

"  None  that  I  am  aware  of.  She  seemed  anxious  that  I 
should  leave  her  house,  and  appeared  to  act  somewhat  abruptly 
in  requesting  me  to  do  so,'*  said  Marion. 

"  Women  are  very  fantastic  in  their  way  of  doing  things, 
and  Mrs.  Nordheim  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  an  exception. 
What  has  made  her  take  such  an  interest  in  Mr.  Wilson  is  be- 
yond my  comprehension,  but  I  suppose  they  have  a  secret  un- 
derstanding that  Mr.  Wilson  pays  her  a  portion  of  the  profits 
he  will  be  pretty  certain  to  make  as  my  partner  in  business," 
observed  Mr.  Granville. 

This  conversation  made  a  very  deep  impression  upon  Ma- 
rion's mind,  in  more  ways  than  one.  It  set  him  to  thinking  of 
Mrs.  Nordheim  and  Wilson.  He  wondered  what  could  be  her 
motive.  He  was  not  long  in  doubt.  That  same  day  Mrs.  Tom 
Granville  found  him  alone  in  the  parlor. 

"  Marion,  it  is  high  time  that  you  and  me  should  have  some 
understanding  about  Isabella.  She  has  confided  to  me  the 
secret  of  your  mutual  attachment,  and  I  very  foolishly  con- 
sented to  keep  it  from  Mr.  Granville  ;  but  I  must  tell  you  very 
candidly  I  think  you  are  both  young,  and  both  particularly 
foolish.  Mr.  Granville  will  never  consent  to  your  marrying 
Isabella  under  present  circumstances.  He  might  do  so,  were 
you  in  successful  business  and  making  money.  What  are  your 
future  plans  ?"  she  asked. 

Poor  Marion,  this  was  the  extra  pound  that  was  to  break  his 
back.  He  did  not  know  what  to  say,  but  he  made  a  sort  of 
answer,  and  informed  Aunt  Kate  that  he  really  had  no  definite 
plans  for  the  future.  "  I  will  let  things  take  their  regular 
course.  I  am  going  with  the  current,  and  I  cannot  get  out  of 
the  stream  to  get  ashore,"  said  he. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  get  out  of  the  stream  very 
soon,  or  you  will  be  helped  out.  Have  you  not  noticed  that 
Colonel  Benson  is  very  regular  in  coming  here  and  are  you 
not  aware  that  his  hopeful  son  generally  comes  with  his  pa — 
and  also  that  Mr.  Granville  takes  Isabella  and  myself  to  the 
residence  of  Colonel  Benson,  and  contrives  that  young  Benson 
shall  see  Isabella  home  ?"  remarked  Aunt  Kate. 

Marion  replied  that  he  was  aware  of  all  these  facts,  but  re- 


VIGOR.  205 

quested  Aunt  Kate  to  inform  him  more  plainly  what  impres- 
sion she  meant  to  convey  by  mentioning  these  circumstances. 

"  Why,  my  worthy  Marion,  if  you  don't  see  what  it  all  means, 
I  do.  Middleton  Benson  is  in  love  with  Isabella  as  much  as 
that  thick-headed  plodding  young  man  can  be  in  love  with  any 
thing,  and  it  will  not  be  long  before  he  will  propose  for  Bella, 
and  be  accepted,"  replied  Mrs.  Tom  Granville. 

"Accepted,  Mrs.  Granville  !  By  whom,  pray?  Not  by 
Isabel — she  perfectly  detests  him,  to  say  nothing  about  her 
affections  being  given  to  me.  Pooh  !  pooh  !  You  cannot  fright- 
en me  with  any  such  notion,"  observed  Marion  with  some 
temper. 

"Marion,  I  do  not  want  to  alarm  you,  nor  is  there  the  least 
necessity  for  showing  to  me  any  temper.  It  is  all  but  a  waste 
of  words.  I  cannot  alter  things,  but  I  have  endeavored  to 
kindly  put  you  on  your  guard.  Take  it  in  that  light,"  replied 
Mrs.  Granville,  with  calm  dignity. 

"  Mrs.  Granville,  will  you  answer  me  one  question.  Suppose 
Mr.  Benson,  Jr.  should  propose  to  Bella,  would  he  be  accept- 
ed ?"  demanded  Marion. 

"  By  Mr.  Granville,  do  you  mean  ?  Unquestionably  he 
would  be.  In  fact,  I  think  the  two  old  heads  have  already 
arranged  the  matter,"  replied  Mrs.  Granville. 

"  No — I  mean  by  Isabella  ?"  anxiously  inquired  Marion. 

"  Isabel  would  not  dare  refuse  him  under  such  circumstances. 
She  would  refer  him  to  papa,  and  although  she  would  cry  and 
take  on  about  it  in  her  room,  yet  to  Mr.  Granville  she  would 
appear  pleased,  and  when  the  time  came  would  marry  Middle- 
ton  Benson  without  saying  a  word,"  replied  Mrs.  Tom  Gran- 
ville. 

"  Great  God !  I  can't  believe  it.  She  would  never  be  so 
false  to  me,"  said  poor  Marion. 

"  False  is  a  hard  word.  She  is  a  mere  child,  and  when  you 
consented  to  being  engaged  to  her,  you  have  penetration  enough 
to  have  formed  some  idea  of  her  character.  I  .think,  Master 
Marion,  you  have  behaved  excessively  foolish.  There  is  no 
body  whose  advice  is  so  good  as  a  woman's.  Before  you  got 
trammelled  with  such  an  attachment,  why  did  you  not  consult 
Mrs.  Nordheim  1  She  always  appeared  to  be  a  great  friend  of 
yours,"  asked  Mrs.  Granville. 

"  Because  Isabella  requested  me  not  to  say  a  word  to  any 
one  about  the  matter,"  said  Marion. 

"  When  Isabel  told  me  about  it,  Mr.  Monck,  I  was  extremely 
curprised,  and  I  supposed,  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  Mrs. 


204  VIGOR. 

Nordheim  knew  all  about  it.  When  I  told  her,  she  was  per- 
fectly paralyzed,"  observed  Mrs.  Gran  vi  lie. 

"In  God's  name,  Mrs.  Granvjlle,  tell  me  what  you  mean. 
Did  you  tell  her  ?  and  when  was  it  that  you  told  her  ?"  said 
Marion,  excitedly. 

"  I  did  tell  Mrs.  Nordheim,  of  course,  and  the  time  was  the 
day  before  you  moved  here.  In  fact,  she  must  have  requested 
you  to  move  the  very  evening  of  the  day  that  I  saw  her,"  re- 
plied Aunt  Kate. 

"And  what,  Mrs.  Granville,  could  have  been  her  motive  for 
BO  abrupt — ay,  so  unkind  a  proceeding  1  Why  should  she  be 
so  angry  at  my  becoming  attached  to  Miss  Graaville,"  inquired 
Marion. 

"  You  are  really  silly.  The  very  best  reason  in  the  world. 
She  did  not  wish  to  quarrel  with  Granville.  She  knew  that 
he  would  not  consent  to  your  marriage  with  Isabel,  and  sensi- 
ble woman  that  she  ia,  determined  not  to  be  mixed  up  with  it, 
by  countenancing  you — so  she  requested  you  to  move  as  quick 
as  possible,  and  told  some  foolish  story  about  wanting  to  go 
into  the  country.  She  never  did  go  into  the  country,  and  that 
is  proof  that  it  was  but  an  excuse  to  get  you  out  of  the  house," 
said  Mrs.  Granville. 

"  I  see  it  all  now,"  replied  Marion.  "  My  eyes  are  opened. 
What  an  infatuated  fool  I  have  been.  She  was  vexed  at  my 
apparent  want  of  confidence,  and  that  is  the  secret  of  her  cool 
treatment."  Marion  was  as  far  from  the  real  reason  as  ever. 

Aunt  Kate  continued  to  pour  oil  upon  the  fire  that  she  had 
kindled.  "  I  dare  say  that  if  you  had  told  her  all  about  your 
love  for  Belle,  she  would  have  advised  with  you  about  it,  and 
as  she  was  very  fond  of  you,  it  is  likely  that  she  would  have 
backed  her  own  advice  by  acts.  Granville  is  about  to  take 
Wilson  into  partnership  It  is  all  Mrs.  Nordheim 's  doings.  Had 
you  acted  right  with  so  good  a  friend  as  that  lady,  she  would 
have  requested  that  partnership  for  you,  and  Belle's  hand  into 
the  bargain.  .Had  she  done  so,  Mr.  Granville  would  have  con- 
sented at  once.  But  it  is  too  late  now,"  was  the  remark  of  the 
lady. 

Marion  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  His  heart  was  too 
full  to  speak.  At  last  he  managed  to  inform  Mrs.  Granville 
that  he  would  like  to  see  Isabel,  and  have  a  full  and  complete 
understanding  with  her.  Mrs.  Grauville  replied,  "  It  will  be 
of  no  use,  Marion.  She  will  say  yes  to  all  you  say.  But  she 
•will  not  run  away  with  you,  or  get  married  without  the  consent 
of  her  parent.  When  he  puts  his  foot  down,  she  will  obey 


VIGOR.  205 

him,  and  marry  the  man  she  has  chosen,  and  that  will  be  tho 
end  of  it.  Take  my  advice,  you  would  at  once  tell  Isabel  that 
you  both  have  been  foolish,  that  both  had  better  give  up  all 
hope  of  the  future,  and  forget  each  othor,''  said  Mrs.  Granville. 

"  But  Isabel,  my  dear  Mrs.  Granville,  will  not  consent  to 
any  such  thing.  She  loves  me  truly.  Did  I  not  think  so,  I 
would  never  give  her  another  thought.  She  will  never  con- 
sent to  breaking  off  our  engagement  while  she  is  alive,"  said 
the  confident  Marion  Monck. 

"  Nonsense.  Try  the  experiment  at  least.  It  will  be  for 
your  own  happiness  to  do  so,  I  assure  you.  Under  different 
circumstances,  I  dare  say  you  and  Isabel  might  have  been  very 
happy,  but  not  now.  Good-bye.  Think  over  what  I  have 
said,  and  act  precisely  as  you  deem  best,"  said  Mrs.  Tom 
Granville. 

Marion  was  completely  paralyzed  at  such  advice  as  this.  He 
did  not  know  which  way  to  turn  for  relief.  He  attended  to  his 
duties  the  remainder  of  the  day,  and  when  evening  came  and 
it  was  about  time  to  close  the  store,  his  mind  was  made  up  to 
take  the  advice  of  a  third  and  a  disinterested  party.  He  told 
the  Count  Falsechinski  that  he  desired  particularly  to  see  him, 
and  asked  to  meet  him  that  evening  at  tiie  French  coffee  house 
in  Warren  street. 

"  I  will  meet  you,  Marion,  but  not  there.  Make  it  at  Del- 
monico's,  in  William  street.  There  we  can  have  a  room  to 
ourselves,  and  a  quiet  nice  dinner,  or  supper,  if  you  call  it  so. 
I  have  an  idea  that  I  could  guess  the  nature  of  your  seeking  a 
private  conversation  with  me,  but  I  will  not  do  so.  Be  punc- 
tual to  the  time,  which  I  wish  you  would  make  eight  o'clock  ; 
do  not  be  later.  It  is  a  bitter  cold  night,  and  a  good  cozy 
room  with  a  fire,  and  the  nice  edibles  and  drinkables  that  Del- 
monico  can  get  up,  will  enable  us  to  pass  a  delightful  evening," 
replied  the  Count,  and  the  parties  separated. 


CHAPTER    XXXYI. 

The  Night  of  the  Great  Fire  in  Ntw  Ytrk  City — The  Count  Folser.h'.ntki  nnd 
Marion  Monck  at  D,imonico's — The  Coun'  a  Opinions  of  Mr.  GnmiiJc  s 
Views—  Marion  savts  the  Portfol  o  and  rujifrs  (>/'  Mr.  Granville— The 
Great  Fire, 

IT  was  a  dreadful  nigtt,  that  night  in  December,  1835, 
when  the  Great  Fire  occurred  in  New  York.  Marion  left  the 
store  early  in  the  evening,  and  as  usual  took  the  keys  of  the 


206  VIGOR. 

store  from  the  porter,  as  he  had  previously  taken  the  keys  of 
an  immense  iron  safe  or  vault,  built  into  the  solid  walls  of  the 
store.  He  went  home  to  tea,  and  after  he  had  finished,  Mr. 
Granville  expressed  a  desire  to  have  a  policy  of  insurance,  or 
to  know  if  one  had  been  taken  out  on  property  in  a  store  on 
the  North  River  side  of  the  town. 

"  I  shall  he  over  in  the  neighborhood  of  our  store,  and  it 
will  cost  me  but  little  trouble  to  go  in  and  ascertain  for  you," 
was  Marion's  reply. 

"  I  wish  you  would  do  so,"  was  the  answer,  and  Marion  left 
for  Delmonico's,  still  keeping  all  the  keys  with  him. 

The  store  of  Mr.  Granville  was  on  the  corner  of  Broad  and 
Garden  street,  and  its  rear  overlooked  the  graveyard  attached 
to  the  Reformed  Church  in  Garden  street,  of  which  Dr.  Mat- 
thews was  the  pastor. 

Delmonico's  at  that  time  was  almost  as  celebrated  as  it  now 
is — perhaps  more  so,  as  it  then  had  no  rivals  and  no  establish- 
ment of  a  similar  kind  could  have  been  found  in  the  city.  It 
was  located  in  William  street,  on  the  west  side,  about  midway 
between  Garden  and  Beaver  streets.  The  eldest  brother  of 
the  Delmonico  Brothers  was  then  alive.  He  was  a  fine-looking 
man  of  middle  age,  and  his  first  name  was  John.  He  had  an- 
other brother  named  Peter.  Since  then,  several  others  have 
come  to  this  country,  while  John  is  long  since  dead.  He  was 
accidentally  killed  while  shooting  over  on  Long  Island. 

When  Marion  reached  Delmonico's  it  wanted  but  little  of 
the  hour  appointed.  He  found  the  Count  waiting,  and  soon 
after  a  servant  showed  them  up  to  a  nice  little  dining-room  on 
the  second  floor,  and  facing  the  street.  Soon  after  the  dinner 
was  served,  and  a  bottle  of  wine  also. 

"  Don't  talk  about  any  unpleasant  matter  until  we  have  had 
our  dinner,"  said  the  Count — and  Marion  scrupulously  re- 
frained from  the  least  allusion  to  his  troubles.  Over  an  hour 
passed  away  while  the  Count  was  enjoying  the  meal,  and  then 
he  ordered  coifee  and  cigars. 

"  Now,  Marion,  I  am  ready  for  you.  Tell  me  how  I  can 
serve  you,  and  I  will  do  so  to  an  extent  that  you  little  dream 
of.  Tell  me  all,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end." 

Marion  then  related  what  has  already  been  made  familiar  to 
our  readers.  When  he  had  concluded,  the  Count  remarked, 

"  I  dare  say,  Marion,  that  you  consider  this  unfortunate  at- 
tachment as  one  of  serious  importance.  Pah  !  if  you  could 
view  such  things  as  I  do  !  Minds  change — young  men's  espe- 
cially. Could  you  jump  over  five  years  of  your  existence,  yott 


VIGOR.  207 

would  laugh  heartily  at  this  boyish  attachment  to  a  pretty 
simpleton,  for  that  is  all  that  Miss  Isabel  amounts  to  under 
the  most  favorable  circumstances.  But  I  will  not  laugh  at 
you,  for  I  have  been  over  the  same  road,  and  know  just  how 
you  feel  upon  this  occasion.  Mr.  Granville  will  not  consent 
to  your  marrying  Miss  Isabel  under  any  circumstances — and  I 
would  not  either,  if  Fwas  he.  And  if  I  was  your  parent,  I 
would  cut  your  throat  before  you  should  marry  such  a  useless, 
insignificant  piece  of  furniture.  Pah  again  !  Don't  look  an- 
gry, nor  don't  get  angry  with  what  I  am  going  to  say.  You 
have  the  world  before  you,  with  health  and  good  looks.  Yes, 
Marion,  you  are  a  devilish  good  looking  fellow,  and  when  you 
get  a  trifle  more  manly,  you  will  be  a  splendid  specimen  of  a 
man.  You  speak  several  languages — you  have  a  thorough 
mercantile  education — and  now  you  would  throw  all  these  ad- 
vantages away,  and  tie  yourself  up  with  a  little  silly  girl  who 
has  not  done  eating  bread  and  butter.  For  shame,  man  !  I 
thought  you  had  a  high  ambition.  If  Mr.  Granville  would 
plank  down  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  with  the  young  lady,  it 
might  do,  but  to  marry  her  without  his  consent  and  not  get  a 
cent — Oh  no,  it's  perfect  nonsense.  Don't  think  of  such  a 
thing — it  is  sheer  madness,"  was  the  advice  given  by  the  expe- 
rienced Count. 

"  But,  my  dear  Count,  although  I  am  half  persuaded  that 
you  are  right,  yet  how  can  I  help  myself  ?  We  love  each 
other,  and  we  are  engaged.  It  would  not  be  honorable  in  me 
to  break  off,  and  I  could  not  do  it.  What  would  she  net  suf- 
fer. ?"  replied  Marion. 

"  Not  a  pin's-head  worth — not  a  particle.  Try  it.  Go  to 
Miss  Isabel  to-morrow  the  first  thing.  Tell  her  you  are  satis- 
fied her  father  will  never  consent  to  your  engagement,  and  that 
you  cannot  support  a  wife,  and  beg  her  to  give  up  all  thoughts 
of  such  an  arrangement.  Tell  her  that  your  parents  won't 
consent  to  it.  Tell  her  you  have  made  a  promise  to  me  that 
you  won't  marry  until  you  are  thirty  years  old,  and  see  how 
kindly  she  will  take  it.  She  won't  make  the  slightest  objec- 
tion. Or  if  she  does,  your  skirts  are  clear,  and  $ere  is  no 
occasion  for  you  to  trouble  your  head  any  further  about  the 
affair.  I  advise  you  to  move  out  of  the  house  of  Mr.  Gran- 
ville also.  Get  some  other  place  to  live — it  is  more  indepen- 
dent," continued  the  Count,  when  the  alarm  of  fire  occurred. 

"Fire!  Fire!  Fire!"  rang  through  the  streets.  The 
Count  jumped  up,  and  so  did  Marion.  They  flung  open  the 
blinds,  and  could  see  by  the  illuminated  sky  that  it  raged  near 


208  YJGOR. 

them.  Down  stairs  they  rushed.  The  Count  paid  the  bill, 
and  they  were  soon  in  the  street.  It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock, 
the  cold  was  intense,  and  there  was  a  high  wind.  They  passed 
rapidly  into  Exchange  street — now  Beaver,  east  of  William — 
and  kept  on  to  Pearl.  There  were  few  people  assemhled,  but 
one  of  the  large  dry-goods  stores  a  few  doors  from  Wall  was  in 
a  blaze.  They  stopped  and  watched  the  tire  for  a  short  time, 
and  saw  it  extend  westward  towards  the  Merchants' Exchange. 
"  Count,  it  is  very  cold  to  be  standing  here.  I  have  the  keys 
of  the  store,  and  I  am  sure  good  coal  fires  are  burning  in  both 
offices — if  not,  we  can  soon  make  one.  We  shall  freeze  if  we 
stop  here,"  observed  Marion. 

The  Count  agreed  to  the  proposition,  and  they  walked  rapidly 
to  the  store  of  Mr.  Granville.  Sure  enough,  they  found  a 
good  coal  fire  burning,  and  they  lit  a  couple  of  caudles  and 
their  cigars,  and  took  sea's  by  the  fire.  Soiue  short  time 
elapsed  when  they  heard  an  unusual  noise  in  the  street,  and 
Marion  said  he  would  go  and  see  how  the  fire  was  getting  on. 
He  had  been  out  but  a  moment,  as  it  seemed  to  the  Count, 
when  he  returned,  his  face  aghast.  "  Count,  several  blocks 
are  on  fire,  and  so  is  the  Merchants'  Exchange.  Why,  our 
store  may  be  in  danger  !  "  said  Marion. 

"  Nonsense  !  To  get  at  us  the  fire  has  got  to  burn  a  good 
sized  church,  and  a  pretty  large  grave-yard.  However,  we 
had  better  stay  and  sec  the  business  over  or  the  fire  out.  I 
shall  not  go  to  look  at  it  myself,  for  I  am  very  comfortable 
her.  Suppose  j^ou  go  to  Dclmonico's  and  get  some  cigars." 

Marion  started  on  his  errand,  but  speedily  returned  :  "  D«l- 
monico's  is  all  on  fire  ;  there  is  no  getting  near  the  place." 

"  But  there  are  no  bells  ringing.  It  is  a  fire  without  much 
noise,"  remarked  the  Count. 

"  People  have  too  much  to  do  to  save  their  things.  Let's 
both  go  and  look  at  the  fire,"  said  Marion. 

It  was  a  very  remarkable  fact  that  on  the  occasion  of  the 
Great  Fire  in  New  York,  the  city  bells  rang  but  for  a  few 
moments,  and  while  block  after  block  was  being  burned,  there 
was  a  fearful  stillness,  only  interrupted  by  the  roar  of  the 
flames  The  Count  and  Marion  got  separated,  and  Marion 
wa.s  alone  watching  the  progress  of  the  fire.  It  came  down 
Garden  street  like  a  summer  whirlwind,  and  Marion  for  the 
first  time  became  fully  conscious  that  the  store  of  Mr.  Gran- 
ville could  not  escape.  He  then  went  to  work  to  get  the  books 
of  the  firm  at  least  to  a  place  of  safety.  He  felt  sure  that  the 
fire  would  not  cross  Broad  street.  Luckily,  a  store  was  open 


VIGOR.  209 

on  the  opposite  side,  and  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the  peo- 
ple. He  carried  thither  every  book  and  paper  that  he  regarded 
as  of  any  value.  When  this  was  accomplished,  he  took  the 
portfolio,  which  contained  bills  of  exchange,  notes,  stock  cer- 
tificates, and  olher  papers  of  value  to  the  amount  of  half  a  mil- 
lion of  dollars.  This  he  carried  about  his  person  knowing  that 
its  loss  could  never  be  replaced.  No  on§  arrived  to  aid  him. 
He  went  once  more  into  the  street  :  the  church  in  the  rear  of 
Mr.  Granville's  store  was  on  fire,  and  Marion  then  knew  that 
the  store  was  doomed.  By  this  time  the  authorities  had  de- 
termined to  blow  up  buildings  and  prevent  the  fire  from 
spreading  in  Broad  street.  A  store  selected  to  be  blown  up 
was  at  No.  42  Garden,  only  opposite  the  corner  store  of  Mr. 
Granville.  From  the  opposite  side  of  Broad  Marion  saw  that 
blown  up,  and  fall  in  one  solid  mass  of  ruins — not  a  brick  or 
stone  fell  into  the  street — the  store  rose  up  and  fell  on  tho 
ground  upon  which  it  was  built. 

Shortly  afterward  the  store  of  Mr.  Granville  caught,  and 
Marion  remained  on  th-e  opposite  side  of  the  street  and  saw  it 
burn  and  fall  a  mass  of  fire  ;  such  was  the  intense  heat  that 
not  a  brick  was  left  standing.  While  watching  this  result,  he 
was  startled  by  hearing  some  one  exclaim,  "  My  God,  I  am  a 
ruined  man  !"  lie  knew  the  voice.  It  was  Mr.  Granville. 

Marion  approached  him  and  placed  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
"  It  is  not  so  bad  as  you  suppose,  Mr.  Granville." 

"  The  portfolio — where  is  the  portfolio  ?"  inquired  the  mer- 
chant. 

"  I  have  it,  sir,  all  safe.     Here  it  is,"  replied  Marion. 

"  Thank  God  for  that.  All  the  rest  may  go,"  was  the  re- 
sponse of  the  merchant. 

Marion  then  conducted  him  to  the  spot  where  he  had  placed 
the  books  and  papers.  "  Nothing  is  lost,  sir,  except  the  mer- 
chandise, and  that  is  fully  insured." 

"  You  have  done  all  this  yourself?"  asked  Mr.  Granville. 

"  Yes,  sir.  In  a  time  like  this  aid  was  impossible  to  be 
had,"  was  the  modest  reply  of  Marion. 

"  I  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude,  my  dear  boy,  that  I  cnu 
never  repay.  But  come,  let  us  get  home,"  said  Mr.  Granville. 

It  was  nearly  daybreak  when  they  reached  State  street,  but 
the  fire  was  burning  as  madly  as  ever,  and  did  not  stop  until  it 
had  levelled  every  house  between  Broad  and  Wall  street  to  the 
East  river. 


210  VIGOR. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

Hiss  Norris  Rouses  the  A  motion  of  Thomas  Granvillf,  Esq. — He  Goes  to 
Washington — General  Jackson  Appoints  Him  Consul  to  a  Port  in  France 
— Returns  to  Ntw  York— Brother  Advance*  Money — Renew*  Intimacy 
with  Hiss  Norris  — Consul  Granville  sails  for  Europe,  and  Mits  Norris 
Accompanies  Him— Queer  Scenes  in  England  and  France — The  President 
Removes  Tom  Granville  from  his  Consulate — His  Return  to  America,  fol- 
lowed ui/  Miss  Norris,  who  h'is  made  Five  Thousand  Dollars  by  Her  Euro- 
pean Tour — The  Ruin  and  Distress  of  the  Ex-Consul. 

THOMAS  GRANVILLE  seemed  to  have  lost  the  esteem  not  only 
of  those  with  whom  he  was  connected  by  relationship,  but 
also  of  the  young  woman  with  whom  he  had  formed  a  depen- 
dent connexion.  She,  too,  got  sick  of  Tom,  and  became 
anxious  to  terminate  their  engagement.  She  was  more  anxious 
to  do  this,  as  Tom  displayed  no  energy  and  no  manliness  of 
character.  He  was  contented  to  remain  by  the  side  of  Miss 
Norris  at  her  comfortable  quarters  from  one  meal  to  another. 
At  last  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she  would,  for  the  wel- 
fare of  Tom,  rouse  him  out  of  his  unmanly  lethargy  at  any 
cost.  About  the  time  of  the  Great  Fire  she  took  Tom  Granville 
to  task. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  expect  to  be  tied  to  my  apron-strings 
for  ever  ?  Have  you  no  idea  of  doing  anything  for  yourself] 
For  shame  !"  she  asked. 

Tom  replied,  "  I  do  not  know  what  I  can  do.  What  do  you 
wish  me  to  do  ?" 

"  Oh,  man,  man,  have  you  no  energy — no  self-respect  left  ? 
Do  ?  Why,  rather  than  lead  such  a  miserable  life  as  you  are 
leading,  Master  Tom,  I  would  go  and  hire  myself  out  as  a 
street  sweeper,  carry  in  coal,  go  from  house  to  house  and  offer 
to  clear  off  the  snow  from  the  sidewalks,  do  any  thing  to  earn 
my  bread,  were  I  a  man,  or,  if  like  you,  I  pretended  to  be 
one,"  said  the  handsome  Miss  Norris. 

Such  language  was  calculated  to  arouse  a  new  spirit  in  poor 
Tom,  and  it  succeeded  admirably. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  get  up  a  quarrel  with  me  ?  Is  that  what 
you  are  trying  to  do  ?  or  do  you  wish  to  separate  from  me  ?  I 
can  accommodate  you  in  any  way,"  replied  Tom,  with  some 
spirit. 


VIGOR.  211 

"  Bravo,  bravo,  Tom.  That  is  excellent.  I  have  not  seen 
you  look  so  becoming  in  a  ftng  while.  I  will  tell  you  what  I 
want.  Be  a  man  ;  make  yourself  respected.  God  forgive  me 
for  ever  letting  you  come  here.  Do  you  know  that  all  your 
friends  charge  me  with  leading  you  astray  ?  seducing  your  'af- 
fections from  a  beloved  wife  ?  destroying  her  peace  of  mind  ? 
ruining  her  domestic  happiness,  and  all  such  sort  of  stuff, 
which  you,  Tom  Granville,  know  is  as  false  as  falsehood  it- 
self," continued  Miss  Norris.  * 

9  And  who  dares  say  such  a  thing  ?  It  is  not  true,  and  you 
know  it  all  well  as  I  do.  Why,  then,  should  you  care  what 
people  say  falsely  ?  Tell  me  who  makes  those  charges  against 
you.  Give  me  names,  and  if  my  brother  or  my  wife  even  have 
dared  to  assert  such  atrocious  slanders,  I  will  make  them  con- 
tradict them,"  replied  Tom,  very  bravely. 

"  Ah,  Tom,  if  you  would  only  show  as  much  spirit  in  your 
actions  as  you  do  in  your  language,  I  should  respect  you 
much  more  than  I  do  now.  I  do  not  want  to  make  enemies, 
and  yet  I  am  making  them  every  day  on  your  account.  Your 
wife  has  applied  for  a  divorce,  and  she  will  succeed  in  getting 
it,  if  you  do  not  mind,  Tom,"  observed  Miss  Norris. 

"  I  don't  care  a  straw  whether  she  does  or  not.  What  will 
it  matter  me  ?"  inquired  Tom. 

"  It  matters  this  much,  that  if  she  succeeds  in  getting  a  di- 
vorce, it  permits  her  to  marry  again,  while  it  debars  you  from 
that  privilege,"  remarked  Miss  Norris. 

Tom  answered  that  he  did  not  care  for  a  divorce,  that  he 
should  never  marry  again  under  any  circumstance,  that  he  had 
had  quite  sufficient  of  married  life,  and  wished  for  no  more. 
But  he  continued,  "  I  see  that  you  wish  to  get  rid  of  me.  Your 
wishes,  Clara,  shall  be  gratified.  I  will  leave  you  this  very 
day.  You  shall  see  me  no  more." 

"  Nay,  Tom,"  continued  Miss  Norris,  with  some  feeling.  "  I 
wish  to  see  you  do  something.  You  have  cleverness,  use  it  to 
some  purpose,  in  some  way,  I  care  not  how.  I  have  no  wish 
to  get  rid  of  you,  except  for  your  own  good." 

"  No  matter  what  the  motive  is,  Clara.  We  won't  speak  of 
that.  You  do  wish  it,  arid  it  shall  be  done.  But  I  have  a  fa- 
vor to  ask.  I  need  some  money  for  a  short  time.  Lend  it  to 
me,  and  I  will  return  it  inside  of  a  month.  I  am  man  enough 
for  that,  at  any  rate."  said  Tom. 

Miss  Norris  went  to  a  little  portable  desk,  opened  it,  and 
took  out  a  pocket-book. 

"  How  much  do  you  want,  Tom  ?"  she  asked. 


212  VIGOR. 

"  Fifty  dollars  will  answer  iny  purpose,"  was  the  reply,  and 
she  at  ouce  handed  him  that  amount. 

"  If  it  is  not  sufficient,  tell  me  so,  and  you  shall  have  more," 
added  Clara,  as  she  held  out  the  purse. 

"No.  It  is  quite  enough  ;  and  now,  Clara,  good-bye,"  said 
Tom. 

Miss  Norria  wished  to  arouse  Tom  Granville  to  make  some 
effort  to  do  some  thing  for  himself,  but  as  she  saw  determina- 
tion  in  every  lineament  of  Tom's  expressive  face,  she  became 
fearful  that  she  had  overdone  the  matter.  Perhaps  Tom  was 
going  to  jump  off  the  dock,  or  commit  suicide  in  some  other 
shape.  She  felt  that  the  melancholy  fate  of  poor  Nordheim, 
her  first  friend,  had  been  tragedy  enough  for  her  lifetime,  and 
she  was  not  anxious  to  have  Tom  get  killed,  or  kill  himself. 
So  she  changed  her  battery.  "  Come,  Tom,  you  need  not  say 
good-bye  ;  or  if  you  will  do  so,  give  me  some  reason  for  it. 
Tell  me  where  are  you  going.  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  and 
if  it  is  not  an  impertinent  question,  when  am  I  to  see  your  in- 
dignant lordship  again  ?" 

Not  a  smile  appeared  upon  the  face  of  Tom.  He  was  as 
calm  as  apparent  insensibility  could  make  him.  He  felt  indig- 
nant, but  he  had  sense,  and  he  had  pride,  and  these  told  him 
that  Miss  Norris  was  acting  right  It  was  a  bitter  pill  to 
swallow,  but  he  got  it  down. 

"  Clara,  I  will  try  and  reply  to  your  questions,  or  I  would 
do  so  if  I  could,  but  I  do  not  really  know  what  I  am  going  to 
do.  I  am  going  to  leave  New  York  this  very  evening,  that  I 
have"  decided  upon  firmly.  So  that  my  good-bye  means  some- 
thing. I  shall  go  to  Philadelphia  this  afternoon.  I  have 
friends  there.  If  nothing  opens,  I  shall  keep  on  to  Baltimore, 
where  I  married  my  wife,  and  from  thence  I  may  go  still  farther 
south.  That  fa  all  I  can  tell  you,  and  once  more  I  say  good- 
bye." 

Tom,  as  he  said  this,  rose  and  took  his  hat,  and  walked 
partly  to  the  door.  Miss  Norris  followed  him. 

"  Tom,  I  shall  not  say  one  word  to  prevent  your  going.  It 
is  necessary  for  your  own  sake.  May  God  grant  that  you  may 
find  some  thing  to  do — get  into  business,  or  get  some  position 
that  will  be  creditable  to  you  and  to  those  connected  with  you. 
If  you  do,  perhaps  your  wife  will  withdraw  her  application. 
Your  brother  will  receive  you  as  a  brother  again.  I  wish  you 
well  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  I  am  not  selfish  when  I 
propose  our  separation.  It  is  for  your  good,"  said  Clara. 

Tom  replied,   "  So  you  have  said,  Clara,  and  I  believe  you. 


VIGOR.  213 

Ono  more  cood-bye.     You  shall  hear  from  me  favorably,  and  T 
thank  you  for  having  roused  me  from  my  lazy,  unmanly  sleep." 

Miss  Norris  bade  him  an  affectionate  farewell,  and  Tom  Gran- 
ville  left  the  house  determined  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf.  He 
did  not  wait  for  his  resolves,  which  he  felt  were  good  ones,  to 
cool.  It  was  about  noon  when  he  left  the  residence  of  Miss 
Norris.  He  went  from  there  to  a  quiet  eating-house  down  in 
Nassau  street,  and  got  dinner.  That,  afternoon  he  started  for 
Philadelphia,  and  he  did  not  halt  for  any  time  until  he  had  gone 
as  far  south  as  the  city  of  Washington. 

In  the  chapter  where  we  gave  an  account  of  Tom's  marrying, 
we  mentioned  the  conduct  of  General  Jackson  in  after  years, 
when  Thomas  Granville  came  to  him  in  distress  and  in  trou- 
ble. It  was  the  present  trip  to  which  we  then  alluded.  Pres- 
ident Jackson  took  the  matter  in  his  own  hands,  and  sent  the 
name  of  Thomas  Granville  to  the  Senate  for  confirmation  as 
Consul  to  one  of  the  principal  cities  of  France.  He  furnished 
Tom  Granville  with  funds  to  proceed  immediately  to  New 
York.  Tom  was  delayed  in  Baltimore  for  a  few  days.  Before 
he  reached  New  York,  his  appointment  and  confirmation  had 
been  published  in  all  the  New  York  papers.  It  took  all  his 
acquaintances  by  surprise.  "  Ah,  that  brother  of  mine.  He 
will  never  be  taken  alive,"  exclaimed  Pitt  Granville,  who  had 
a  great  admiration  of  official  people,  and  his  brother  was  now 
one,  thanks  to  General  Jackson's  friendship.  No  sooner  did 
Thomas  Granville  reach  New  York,  than  he  proceeded  to  his 
brother's  office.  W.  Pitt  Granville  received  him  kindly,  and 
conducted  him  into  the  inner  office.  Before  Tom  left,  Gran- 
ville had  promised  to  let  him  have  all  the  money  he  needed  for 
an  outfit,  and  wait  for  it  when  Tom  Granville  should  have 
reached  France,  and  began  to  pocket  the  emoluments  of  the 
Consulate.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  mere  fact  of  his 
brother's  getting  so  honorable  an  appointment  abroad  was  very 
gratifying  to  the  senior  Granville.  A  thousand  or  two  thou- 
sand dollars  to  send  out  his  brother  to  France,  was  nothing,  in 
comparison  to  the  gratification  of  his  own  feelings,  even  if  Tom 
had  never  remitted  back  a  cent. 

No  sooner  had  Tom  received  money  from  his  brother,  than 
he  at  once  went  to  a  hotel.  There  he  sat  down  and  wrote  a 
grateful  letter  to  General  Jackson,  and  inclosed  the  thirty  dol- 
lars the  President  had  loaned  him. 

"  Your  act,  General,  has  made  me  ascertain  that  I  have  more 
friends  than  I  dreamed  of.  As  you  foretold,  I  have  any  quan- 
tity of  friends  since  my  appointment  became  public.  I  had  no 


VIGOR. 

difficulty  in  raising  money,  and  have  sufficient  not  only  to  re- 
turn you  the  thirty  dollars  which  you  were  so  good  as  to  make 
me  take  at  Washington,  but  enough  left  to  procure  me  a  hand- 
some outfit  and  pay  my  expense  to  the  port  where  I  am  ap- 
pointed." 

General  Jackson  was  much  gratified  with  the  letter  of  Tho- 
mas Granville,  and  wrote  him  in  reply  a  short  but  expressive 
letter,  urging  him  to  leave  New  York  at  the  earliest  moment, 
and  giving  him  some  good  advice  as  to  his  conduct  while  iu 
office. 

Thomas  Granville,  after  he  had  dispatched  his  letter  to  the 
President,  found  his  way  up  to  Broome  street.  Miss  Norris 
was  in  ecstacies  at  his  success.  "  I  knew  it  was  in  your  line, 
if  you  only  exerted  yourself."  She  then  inquired  what  the 
income  would  be,  and  into  various  other  matters.  Tom  said 
he  should  engage  passage  to  Liverpool,  and  from  thence  go  to 
Birmingham,  Manchester,  Leeds,  and  other  places  in  England 
where  he  had  relations  and  connexions. 

"  You  know  my  wife   has  some  very  aristocratic  connexions 

in  London.     One  of  her  great  aunts  is  the  Duchess   of  Leeds, 

another  is  the  Marchioness  of  Carmarthen.      They  were  both 

Baltimore  girls,  and  married  well,"  said  Tom. 

"  They  know  all  about  your  wife,  of  course  ?"  inquired  Clara. 

"  Certainly.  They  know  of  our  marriage,  and  both  ladies 
wrote  on  letters  congratulating  us  at  the  time  the  unfortunate 
affair  came  off,"  said  Tom. 

"  Probably  they  have  heard  of  your  separation  from  your 
wife  ?"  inquired  Clara,  anxiously. 

"  Not  a  syllable.  You  may  bet  your  life  that  I  have  never 
uttered  a  word  about  it  to  those  grand  dames.  Nothing  has 
been  said  about  it  in  the  papers  or  in  any  public  manner,  and 
I  am  quite  sure  that  my  wife  and  her  relations  are  too  cur- 
sedly mortified  about  the  affair  to  have  written  such  unpleasant 
news,"  said  Tom  Granville. 

"  Thomas  Granville,"  repeated  Miss  Norris,  coming  close  to 
him,  laying  her  hands  upon  his  shoulder,  and  looking  him  full 
in  the  face,  "  Tom,"  she  continued,  "  you  have  said  that  you 
loved  me.  Did  you  mean  it,  when  you  used  to  say  it  ?" 

"  Upon  my  soul  I  did,  Clara ;  I  do  love  you,"  answered  Tom 
Granville,  returning  her  look. 

The  lady  did  not  alter  her  position.  "  Thomas,  will  you 
prove  it  ?  Will  you  take  me  with  you  to  France  ?" 

"  You,  Clara  !  You  1  But  will  you  go  ?  No,  no  !  I  were 
mad  to  think  of  such  a  thing.  It  would  d — n  all  icy  prospects 


VIGOR.  215 

forever.  Great  God,  what  a  regular  row  it  would  kick  up  ! 
No,  Clara,  it  would  not  do.  It  wouldn't  pay.  What  would 
Granville  say  ?" 

"  Listen  to  me,  Tom  Granville.  Your  brother,  the  Presi- 
dent, none  of  your  friends  need  to  know  any  thing  of  the  mat- 
ter. You  go  to  work,  get  your  outfit — uniform,  letters,  com- 
mission, letters  of  introduction.  Engage  passage,  and  do  every 
thing  that  you  have  got  to  do,  as  though  I  were  not  going.  I 
will  secure  my  passage  in  the  same  ship,  but  under  another 
name.  When  we  reach  Liverpool,  we  can  then  travel  toge- 
ther, and  then  what  a  chance  of  your  paying  off  your  wife  old 
scores  !  Take  me  as  your  wife — introduce  me  to  the  haughty 
dames  who  are  her  connexions,  and  see  what  glorious  times  we 
shall  have.  After  leaving  England,  I  can  go  with  you  to  Paris 
— then  follow  you  to  your  post — take  a  little  cottage  in  the 
suburbs  of  the  city.  0  Tom,  it  will  be  so  nice — so  quiet,  and 
we  can  be  so  happy,"  said  Miss  Norris. 

Ah,  Tom  Granville,  where  was  your  better  angel  when  this 
artful  syren  was  pouring  such  ideas  into  your  confused  brain  ? 
Consul  Granville  agreed  to  the  entire  programme  as  marked 
out  by  the  artful  Clara,  and  it  was  eventually  carried  out  in  all 
its  details.  Clara  sold  off  all  her  furniture  and  everything  of 
value,  and  placed  the  money  in  the  Sussex  Bank.  She  went 
up  and  bade  her  parents  good-bye. 

When  the  day  for  sailing  came,  Thomas  Granville  had  an 
abundance  of  friends  to  see  him  off.  His  brother  Pitt  Gran- 
ville and  a  large  party  went  on  board  the  ship,  and  came  up  in 
the  steamboat.  Little  did  any  one  dream  that  Miss  Norris 
was  on  board,  under  an  assumed  name.  Yet  so  it  was,  and  the 
ship  left  the  hook  with  a  fair  breeze  for  her  destination. 

It  is  not  in  our  power  to  give  an  account  of  all  that  befell 
Thomas  Granville  during  the  period  he  was  absent  from  the 
United  States.  He  reached  England,  and  so  did  Miss  Norris. 
She  travelled  with  him  far  and  wide  as  his  wife.  His  family 
received  her  as  such,  and  the  haughty  relations,  the  two  per- 
sons to  whom  we  have  alluded,  made  much  of  their  American 
rela^ons.  Tom  and  his  supposed  wife  were  feted  in  the  most 
sumptuous  manner.  The  relatives  of  Mrs.  Tom  Granville 
were  very  much  delighted  with  their  relation,  as  represented 
by  Miss  Norris.  But  at  last  her  intrigues  became  noticed, 
and  Tom  hurried  her  over  to  Paris.  There  they  became  worse, 
and  although  she  kept  a  purse  separate  from  Tom,  before  he 
had  resided  at  his  post  a  year  she  had  coined  money  iu  abun- 
dance, while  he  was  imDoverishcd.  She  left  him  for  London, 


216  VIGOR. 

and  there  her  position  enabled  her  to  carry  on  several  liasons, 
that  brought  her  in  enormous  sums  of  money.  She  played  a 
high  game,  and  she  won.  Ere  a  year  elapsed,  she  was  back 
again  in  New  York.  She  had  been  missed,  but  no  one  kuew 
where  she  had  gone. 

There  came  letters  to  the  Pinckney  family  in  Baltimore  from 
the  English  princesses.  They  had  met  Mrs.  Tom  Granville, 
and  were  delighted  with  her.  This  produced  an  explosion, 
but  who  was  playing  so  impudent  a  part  became  the  next  ques- 
tion. Pitt  Granville's  relations  also  wrote  to  him  about  Mrs. 
Tom  Granville.  An  explanation  followed.  The  American 
minister  in  Paris  wrote  the  President  all  about  it.  Tom  Gran- 
ville was  recalled  or  removed  just  one  year  from  the  day  he 
left  New  York.  Miss  Norris  preceded  him  only  a  month.  But 
she  had  a  great  lark,  with  lots  of  fun  and  fmlic.  She  had 
moved  in  the  highest  circles  in  England  and  France.  She  had 
travelled  all  over  the  continent,  and  practiced  the  languages 
she  had  learned  from  the  Count  Falsechinski,  and  made  her- 
self perfect  in  all  of  them.  During  her  sojourn  in  England, 
and  while  upon  the  continent  of  Europe,  she  never  forgot  for 
a  single  moment  one  purpose.  As  we  have  before  stated,  she 
was  engaged  in  intrigues  constantly,  but  they  were  not  of  a  low 
character.  She  passed  along  as  the  beautiful  and  gifted  wife 
of  an  American  official,  and  she  took  care  that  under  that  as- 
sumed position,  all  those  nobles  and  gallants  who  followed  in 
her  train,  or  who  succeeded  in  their  designs,  were  men  that 
had  an  unlimited  control  of  money.  The  costly  jewelry  and 
presents  which  she  received  were  enormous.  She  carried  over 
from  London  to  Paris  a  sum  equivalent  to  twenty-five  hundred 
dollars  in  cash,  and  she  had  not  been  in  Paris  a  week  before 
she  opened  a  bank  account  with  the  American  Banking  House 
of  Welles  &  Co.,  and  before  the  expiration  of  another  week 
she  purchased  from  that  house  a  bill  on  New  York  for  twenty- 
two  hundred  dollars.  This  she  remitted  to  her  lawyer  in  New 
Jersey,  with  directions  to  pay  off  the  mortgage  of  two  thousand 
dollars  and  the  interest  and  other  expenses.  Then  she  com- 
menced flirtation  in  Paris,  until  she  made  her  supposed^  hus- 
band, Consul  Granville,  the  laughing  stock  of  all  his  friends  in 
Paris.  She  then  formed  an  intimacy  with  a  Russian  nobleman 
of  unbounded  wealth,  and  under  his  protection  visited  the  prin- 
cipal capitals  of  Europe.  She  wheedled  her  Russian  admirer 
out  of  a  large  sum.  Soon  after  her  return  to  Paris  she  gave 
him  the  slip,  converted  all  her  funds  into  a  good  draft  on  New 
York,  went  down  to  Havre,  and  took  passage  in  the  ship  Erie. 


VIGOR.  217 

On  her  arrival  she  passed  from  the  ship  to  New  Jersey,  and  at 
Newton  deposited  her  money  in  the  Bank.  She  stayed  but  a 
few  weeks  with  her  parents.  The  mortgage 'of  two  thousand 
dollars  had  been  paid  off,  and  she  was  the  owner  of  a  fine  farm. 
Her  father  was  a  sober,  industrious  man.  Her  brother  and 
sister  she  sent  to  a  neighboring  town  to  school.  These  duties 
accomplished,  she  soon  after  started  for  New  York.  Here  she 
found  Tom  Granville,  irretrievably  ruined  and  disgraced.  His 
brother  Pitt  Granville  had  had  his  feelings  outraged,  and  he 
would  no  louger  recognize  Tom  as  a  brother. 

Poor  Tom.  He  managed  to  get  the  address  of  Clara  Norris, 
who  had  become  more  beautiful  and  more  accomplished,  but  at 
the  same  time  more  heartless  than  ever.  She  gave  him  a  few 
dollars,  and  at  the  same  time  announced  to  him  that  all  inti- 
macy was  at  an  end,  except  she  should  be  pleased  to  have  him 
call  upon  her  occasionally.  She  was  residing  with  Mrs.  Wood- 
ruff, in  Bond  Street.  Thomas  Grauville  asked  her  if  she  in- 
tended to  keep  him  in  money  any  longer  ? 

"  Xo  Tom — not  again.  I  am  going  to  lead  a  life  after  my 
own  fancy.  I  shall  be  in  this  house  but  a  few  days,  and  then  I 
am  going  to  follow  the  bent  of  my  own  inclinations.  I  hope 
you  are  satisfied  ?"  she  asked,  in  a  cruel  manner. 

This  was  all  the  information  Tom  could  get,  except  she  pro- 
mised that  when  she  got  settled,  she  would  write  a  note  to  him, 
and  she  told  him  not  to  call  ayain  at  Mrs.  Woodruff's,  but  that 
if  he  wished  to  see  or  communicate  with  her,  to  send  a  letter 
addressed  to  her,  care  of  Mrs.  Woodruff  ;  and  he  then  took  his 
leave. 

We  have  digressed  in  this  chapter,  and  brought  the  doings 
of  the  two  principal  characters  in  the  chapter  in  advance  of  the 
period  of  our  main  narrative.  We  return  to  that  in  another 
chapter. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

D  f /ruction  q/"  Prop  rty  hij  tie  Gnat  Fire — Its  amount — Mr.  Granville  a 
k  <iry  Sufferer — Mr  Wilson  kcotiie.i  a  Partner — -The  new  House  o/"  Airs. 
Sordh'im — Marion  Monrlc  a  Visitor — An  intei eating  Courtship — The 
Widow  A'ordkeini  tnanits  Rcha^d  \Yil.on. 

THE  great  fire  in  New  York  was  a  terrific  blow  to  its  com- 
mercial prosperity,  although  it  was  not  sensibly  felt  at  the 
moment  or  for  sjine  mouths  subsequent.  Millions  of  property 
were  destroyed  in  one  night.  Almost  every  fire  insurance 

10 


218  VIGOR. 

company  was  irretrievably  ruined,  and  the  merchant  whose 
goods  were  fully  insured,  soon  found  that  the  companies  where 
he  had  insured  would  not  pay  ten  cents  upon  the  dollar.  The 
loss  of  Mr.  Granville  was  very  heavy.  His  warehouse  in  Broad 
street  was  filled  with  valuable  merchandise,  and  he  had  ano- 
ther large  store  in  the  burnt  district  with  an  amount  of  almost 
equal  value.  He  felt  this  loss  very  acutely.  Had  the  fire 
occurred  a  few  weeks  later,  it  would  have  found  Mr.  Wilson  a 
partner,  and  also  a  severe  sufferer.  The  arrangement  of  hav- 
ing Mr.  Wilson  come  into  the  firm,  with  a  considerable  cash 
capital,  was  now  a  matter  of  extensive  moment  to  Mr.  Granville. 
He  stated  frankly  to  the  former  that  his  losses  were  very 
heavy,  and  added,  "  I  shall  not  insist  upon  your  complying 
with  the  agreement  we  had  concluded,  unless  you  are  perfectly 
satisfied  that  my  losses  have  in  no  way  impaired  my  solvency." 

Mr.  Wilson  advised  fully  with  Mrs.  Nordheim,  and  then  in- 
formed Mr.  Granville  that  he  should  become  a  partner  accord- 
ing to  agreement,  on  the  approaching  first  of  January.  Whea 
that  day  came,  the  announcements  were  made  in  the  duily 
journals,  and  the  firm  was  changed  to  "  Granville  &  Wilson." 

Mr.  Wilson  had  resided  some  time  with  Mrs  Nordheim  be- 
fore he  discovered  a  suitable  house.  He  did  find  one,  how- 
ever, for  sale,  and  it  was  purchased,  and  Mrs.  Nordheim  gave 
up  her  house  in  Bond  street,  and  moved  into  her  own  resi- 
dence, it  was  a  three  story  house,  not  in  a  fashionable  part 
of  the  town,  but  in  a  street  running  from  the  west  end  of  the 
Military  Parade  Ground,  now  known  as  Washington  Square. 
Shortly  after  their  removal  Mr.  Wilson  invited  Marion  Monck 
to  call  upon  them  He  did  so,  and  was  pleasantly  scolded  by 
Mrs.  Nordheim  for  his  long  absence  ;  and  she  pleasantly  in- 
quired after  the  health  of  his  fascinating  friend,  Miss  Isabella 
Granville.  This  was  a  sore  subject  to  Marion,  and  he  skillfully 
avoided  it  by  saying  that  he  saw  so  little  of  Isabella  that  he 
did  not  really  know  whether  she  was  well  or  ill.  Mrs.  Nord- 
beim  then  inquired  particularly  about  old  friends  and  acquain- 
tances, the  Count  Falsechinski,  Thomas  Granville  and  Miss 
Norris.  Marion  told  her  that  Tom  had  received  a  foreign  ap- 
pointment, and  of  Miss  Norris  he  knew  nothing.  He  congra- 
tulated Mrs.  Nordheim  upon  her  new  residence,  and  with  a, 
promise  to  call  often,  took  his  leave.  After  he  was  gone,  the 
beautiful  widow  sat  and  mused  for  a  long  time. 

"  What  curious  beings  we  are  !  There  is  that  lad,  Marion — 
I  thought  I  loved  him.  Perhaps  I  did  so — why,  I  cannot  tell 
myself.  Now  I  would  no  more  think  of  making  him  my  hus- 


VIGOR.  219 

band,  than  I  would  of  marrying  a  child.  I  want  some  one  that 
I  can  lean  upon— some  one  that  I  can  trust.  This  youth  is  as 
changeable  and  unstable  as  water.  Had  I  not  discovered  that 
he  loved  Isabella  Granville — well,  it  is  all  for  the  best,  and  I 
am  fortunate  in  getting  rid  of  niy  attachment,  or  what  I  thought 
was  such,  so  easily  ;''  and  here  the  lady  drew  a  long  sigh.  At 
this  moment  Mr.  Wilson  entered  the  sitting-room. 

"  Good  evening,  my  old*  friend.  I  have  had  a  visitor.  I 
wish  you  could  have  arrived  a  little  sooner.  You  would  have 
seen  how  perfectly  calm  I  received  a  visit  from  Marion  Monck. 
Pshaw  !  what  dupes  we  are  to  our  own  imaginings  !  I  really 
fancied  that  I  had  a  strong  regard  for  that  youth.  I  find  Ire  is 
no  more  to  pie  than  a  hundred  others,"  said  the  widow  Nord- 
heim. 

-"  I  am  very  happy  that  you  are  able  to  meet  him  w'th  such 
composure.  I  feared  it  would  be  otherwise.  But  you  have  a 
brave  heart,"  replied  Mr.  \Vilson. 

"And  a  good  one,  too,  I  hope.  Have  you  just  left  the 
office  ?" 

"  About  half  an  hour  ago.  All  was  going  on  well  in  that 
quarter.  Mr.  Granville  bus  been  terribly  scared,  and  is  a 
much  more  sociable  sort  of  partner  than  I  ever  thought  he 
would  make.  He  consults  or  advises  with  me  in  reference  to 
every  matter  of  importance.  Such  a  change  in  the  tenor  of 
any  one  man's  life  I  have  never  heard  of.  From  the  neglected 
bookkeeper  I  am  become  a  prominent  merchant,  and  treated 
with  the  utmost  respect  by  all  with  whom  I  come  in  contact. 
It  is  you,  dear  lady,  that  has  done  all  this,  and  how  can  I  ever 
repay  you  ?''  demanded  Mr.  Wilson.  "  But  one  thing  you 
shall  know — I  fear  that  my  residence  with  you  exposes  me  to- 
be  talked  about,  and  1  would  rather  go  and  live  somewhere 
else — on  your  account,  lady,  not  on  mine,"  continued  honest 
Wilson. 

"  Who  dare  talk  about  me,  Mr.  Wilson,  or  what  can  any  one 
say  in  reference  to  ray  conduct  ?  Surely  I  am  doing  no  harm," 
said  the  widow,  with  great  spirit. 

"  1  ought  not  to  have  said  anything  about  it  to  worry  you, 
but  I  could  not  help  it.  People  joke  me.  Even  Mr.  Gran- 
ville said  with  a  sneer  this  morning,  that  as  you  had  behaved 
very  kind  to  me,  that  I  ought  to  be  very  careful  of  your  repu- 
tation, and  that  I  ought  not  to  reside  iu  the  house  wiih  you," 
stammered  out  poor  Wilson. 

"  I  begin  to  think  they  are  all  right,  Mr.  Wilson.  It  is  curi- 
ous. It  must  appear  singular  that  a  merchant  who  has  been  a 


220  VIGOR. 

clerk  should  reside  alone  in  the  house  of  one  of  his  late  em- 
plojers.  It  must  be  remedied,  Mr.  Wilson — we  must  give  no 
occasion  to  people  to  make  severe  remarks,  or  to  talk  scandal 
about  us.  What  can  bo  done,  Mr.  Wilson  ?  You  are  older 
and  wiser  than  me,  and  I  look  to  you  for  correct  advice.  You 
are  twice  my  own  age.  I  am  but  a  little  girl  in  years,"  said 
the  lively  widow. 

Mr.  Wilson  reflected  a  moment  before  he  attempted  to  make 
any  reply.  Then  he  answered  quietly,  "  Although  it  may  put 
you  to  some  inconvenience,  yet  I  think  it  would  be  better  that 
I  should  move  back  to  my  old  quarters  at  Clarke  &  Brown's  in 
Maiden  Lane.  1  could  come  up  here  every  day.  Then  I  am 
sure  the  world  could  see  no  impropriety  in  you." 

"  That  is  your  candid  opinion,  is  if,  Mr.  Wilson  ?  Now  it  is 
not  mine.  I  have  a  better  plan,  and  not  half  so  troublesome. 
Come  and  sit  down  by  me  on  the  sofa,  and  I  will  tell  you  what 
my  plan  is,"  said  the  widow. 

Mr.  Wilson  seated  himself  as  requested.  She  reached  her 
hand  out  and  gently  took  hold  of  his,  and  contiuued  :  "  I  have 
told  you  that  I  needed  a  protector.  Suppose,  Mr.  Wilson,  I 
could  find  a  nice,  amiable,  kind-hearted,  middle-aged  man,  who 
would  be  willing  to  marry  me.  What  would  you  think  of  that 
plan  ?" 

Poor  Wilson  was  aghast.  "  Really,  Mrs.  Nordheim,  I — 
yes,  perhaps  it  would  be  best.  But  could  you  love  such  a  man 
as  you  describe  ?  He  must  be  a  wretch  if  he  did  not  love  you 
and  make  you  happy.  It  would  be  better.  I  know  you  have 
selected  the  man,  or  you  would  not  talk  so  decidedly.  Do  I 
know  him  ?  You  must  confide  in  me,  and  tell  me  his  name.  I 
will  then  tell  you  honestly  what  I  think  of  him." 

Poor  Wilson  had  made* a  terrible  long  speech,  but  it  was  an 
honest  one.  He  was  much  too  humble  in  his  own  eyes  to 
dream  for  a  moment  of  the  real  person  that  the  widow  had  in 
view,  and  he  was  fearful  that  it  was  Colonel  Mac  Neil,  or  per- 
haps the  Count  Falsechinski.  Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  at  his 
feet,  he  could  not  have  been  more  startled  than  when  Mrs. 
Nordheim  replied, 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Wilson,  it  IA  right  and  proper  that  I  should  tell 
you  the  name  of  the  man  I  intend  to  ask  to  become  my  hus- 
band. It  is  Richard  Wilson,"  said  the  widow  firmly. 

"  Me  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  My  God  !  can  you  be  in  earnest, 
or  is  this  a  dream  ?  This  is  too  much  honor,  too  much  happi- 
ness for  a  poor  old  devil  like  me." 

"  It  is  you,  Mr.  Wilson — that  is  if  you  will  have  me.    I  will 


VIGOR.  221 

try  and  be  a  good,  loving  wife.  I  will  try  to  make  you  hap- 
py ;"  and  she  gazed  fondly  into  his  face  with  those  clear,  beau- 
tiful eyes,  as  she  said  this. 

"  Mrs.  Nordheim  !"  was  all  Wilson  could  say. 

"  Don't  call  nie  Mrs.  Nordheim — call  me  Bessy  ;  for  you 
shall  have  that  right,  and  no  one  living  but  you." 

"  I  really  don't  know  what  to  say.  I  do  love  you.  If  you 
wish  it  I  will  marry  you — but  it  is  not  right.  You  are  very 
young — gifted,  beautiful,  rich,  and  can  marry  any  one  you 
choose — the  very  pick  of  the  land ;  and  I  am  a  poor  old  fel- 
low, double  your  age,  and  old  enough  to.be  your  father.  Don't 
think  of  it — don't  make  such  a  sacrifice  !"  earnestly  exclaimed 
Wilson. 

"  It  is  no  sacrifice  at  all,  Mr.  Wilson.  If  you  are  old  enough 
to  be  my  father,  then  you  can  act  father  as  well  as  husband, 
and  I  will  be  a  dutiful  daughter  as  well  as  wife.  It  shall  be 
so,  unless  you  refuse  me  altogether,"  she  said  smilingly. 

"  ()  no,  dear  Bessy  !  I  would  die  for  you,  and  would  be  as 
devoted  to  your  interest  if  you  had  selected  some  one  else  ; 
but  if  you  will  marry  me,  why  you  will  make  me  the  happiest 
man  alive,"  said  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  Then,  my  dear  Richard,  you  are  satisfied.  So  am  I.  Let 
our  marriage  be  as  soon  as  you  please.  We  will  have  no  fuss 
or  noise.  Send  for  a  clergyman  and  witnesses  to-morrow — 
next  week — or  any  time  you  choose  :  we  will  be  married,  and 
then  all  the  notice  that  we  will  give  about  it  to  our  dear  friends 
will  be  when  they  will  see  the  announcement  in  the  papers. 
Are  you  satisfied,  Richard  ]" 

Poor  Dick  Wilson  was  overcome.  He  seized  the  fair  widow, 
and  pressed  her  to  his  mauly  bosom  as  though  he  would  never 
release  her.  Then  he  kissed  her  rosy  lips,  but  she  offered  no 
resistance  to  either  demonstration,  but  returned  his  caresses 
fondly  but  gently. 

"  Bessy,  I  am  forty  years  old  !"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Richard,  I  am  twenty-two  years  old >"  and  she  laughed 
heartily.  "  I  would  not  have  you  a  year  younger  for  anything. 
I  respect,  esteem,  trust  you  ;  and,  dear  Richard,  don't  feur 
but  that  I  shall  learn  to  love  you  as  fondly  as  if  you  were  ouly 
twenty.  I  need  one  that  I  can  rely  upon  in  my  love,  and  you 
are  that  one  ;  and  I  shall  give  you  all  the  wealth  that  I  possess 
of  worldly  goods,  but  I  shall  give  you  what  you  will  value 
more — all  the  wealth  of  the  most  devoted  affection,"  said  the 
widow. 

Wilson  embraced  her  again  and  again.     His  heart  was  too 


222  VIGOR. 

full  to  speak,  but  he  murmured,  "  Dear  lady,  you  shall  never 
regret  your  choice." 

"  I  don't  believe  I  ever  shall,  Richard.  I  will  trust  you 
with  my  future  happiness  without  a  doubt.  Now  let  us  talk 
quietly  over  the  future." 

They  did  so,  until  a  late  hour.  Mr.  Wilson  urged  delay  in 
;the  marriage.  He  was  anxious  that  she  should  have  time  to 
think  it  over.  Perhaps  she  would  change  her  mind.  The 
lady  was  resolved. 

A  few  days  elapsed  after  the  conversation,  and  then  Richard 
Wilson  and  Elizabeth  Nordheim  went  together  in  a  carriage, 
one  beautiful  morning,  to  the  residence  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Milnor, 
in  Beekman  street.  There  they  met  Mr.  Pitt  Granville,  Mrs. 
Tom  and  Isabella.  Marion  had  not  been  invited.  Mr.  Wilsi  n 
had  two  friends  there.  These  parties  were  witnesses,  and  the 
venerable  clergyman  performed  the  ceremony  of  marriage. 
From  the  clergy  man's  residence  the  small  bridal  party  drove 
directly  to  the  house  of  Mr  Wilson.  A  table  had  been  spread 
with  refreshments,  and  all  partook  of  them.  Mr.  Granville 
then  began  to  make  excuses,  and  said  he  must  go  to  the  office. 

"  Take  Mr.  Wilson  with  you.  Mr.  Granville.  I  do  not  want 
him  to  vary  his  usual  habits.  He  has  not  been  absent  from  his 
post  for  years,  and  I  do  not  want  to  kill  him  on  our  marriage 
day  by  making  him  give  up  one  of  his  old  habits,"  said  the  fair 
bride. 

A  laugh  was  the  consequence  of  this  playful  sally,  and  Mr. 
Wilson,  after  kissing  iiis  wife,  joined  Mr.  Granville  and  went 
to  the  office. 

The  rest  of  the  bridal  party  took  leave  of  the  bride,  and  she 
was  left  alone.  "  Poor  dear  Wilson  !"  she  murmured,  "  how 
perfectly  astonished  he  appears  to  be.  I  dare  say  he  thinks 
it  all  a  dream.  Never  mind — it  shall  be  a  happy  dream,  and 
I  will  begin  by  making  him  completely  at  his  ease,  and  act  as 
though  nothing  remarkable  had  happened.  What  a  lucky 
thought  to  send  him  down  to  the  store  !  How  delighted  he 
was  to  get  off!  I  do  love  him.  But  now  for  dinner.  I  must 
begin  to  see  about  tha*.  for  he  will  be  back  here  to  dinner  as 
punctual  as  the  clock." 

Thus  commenced  the  wedded  life  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson. 


VIGOR.  223 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

The  Marriage  of  Mrs.  Kordhiim  opens  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Monck—He  Condoles 
with  the  Count  Falsechinski — Ilr.  walks  upon  ths  Battery  with  Isabella 
Granville — A  very  funny  Love  Di  loguf — Appeals  to  Mr.  Granville  for  his 
Consent  to  mirry  Isabella — T/it  latter  denies  loving  Marion — Mr.  Gran- 
ville  sends  Mr<.  Tom  Grfinvdl*  to  Maryland — Discharges  Marion  Monck 
from  his  ting/ay—  Tu  nx  hm  out  of  his  huttse — S-ndsfor  Colonel  Benson — 
Mirriage  of  you  g  Btnsoii  to  Is^b.lla  (fianville. 

WHE<N  Mr.  Granville,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Wilson,  reached 
the  counting-room,  (which  was  now  1  seated,  after  the  fire,  lower 
down  Broad  street,  on  the  opposite  side  to  where  the  old  store 
stood)  he  announced  to  the  Count  Falsechinski  and  to  Marion 
Monck  and  the  other  clerks,  the  event  that  had  occurred  that 
morning.  All  immediately  pressed  around  the  new  married 
man,  and  offered  him  their  sincere  congratulations  and  good 
•wishes.  None  were  more  sincere  than  the  Count.  Marion, 
without  exactly  knowing  why,  ivas  embarrassed.  He  felt  hurt 
that  he  had  not  been  asked  to  the  wedding.  He  was  not  con- 
scious of  feeling  deeper  upon  the  subject  than  this.  In  the 
course  of  the  day  he  found  himself  alone  with  the  Count,  and 
he  remarked  to  him,  "  Count,  don't  you  think  it  very  queer 
that  Mrs.  Nordheim,  let  alone  Wilson,  did  not  invite  me  to  the 
wedding  T' 

"  Marion,"  replied  the  Count,  "  allow  me  to  say  that  I  can- 
didly think  you  are  a  perfect  ninny — a  blind  male  mole — an 
ignoramus — a  jackass — and  if  I  knew  any  other  term  to  express 
the  most  consummate  stupidity,  I  would  apply  it  to  you." 

Marion  sprung  ofi'his  office  stool. 

"  Count,  what  do  you  mean  ?     Do  you  wish  to  insult  me  ?'' 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  boy  ;  but  you  are  so  queer,  so  ex- 
tremely so,  that  I  cannot  put  up  with  you  any  longer.  Invite 
you  ?  That,  would  have  been  cool.  No,  no,  my  dear  child  : 
you  were  not  wanted  at  that  wedding.  Marion,  while  yot: 
were  making  an  infernal  fool  of  yourself,  and  falling  in  lov«; 
with  that  silly  fool,  Isabella  Granville,  Mrs.  Bessy  Nordheiut 
was  deeply  attached  to  you.  Mrs.  Tom  Granville  went  up  and 
told  Mrs.  Nordheim  that  you  were  engaged  to  her  niece.  Mrs. 


224  VIGOR. 

Nordheim  sent  you  away  from  her  house  that  day,  for  it  was 
only  on  being  told  that  you  loved  another,  that  the  lovely  lady 
discovered  the  nature  of  her  feelings  to  you.  'She  acted 
wisely,  and  got  rid  of  you,  determined  to  forget  you.  She  is 
an  affectionate  disposition.  She  found  sympathy  in  Wilson. 
He  is  a  devilish  good  fellow.  She  wanted  some  body  that  she 
could  love  and  respect  at  the  same  time.  She  put  Wilson  in 
business — took  him  to  her  home,  and — to-day  she  has  married 
him.  She  has  done  well,  and  mark  my  words,  there  will  not 
be  a  happier  married  couple  in  New  York  than  t\\vse  two.  I 
know  them  both.  'Now,  are  you  not  an  idiot  ?  Such  chances 
— and  you  let  them  slip  !  Now  get  rid  of  that  other  affair.  Get 
off  with  Miss  Isabella,  as  I  advised  you  the  night  of  the  fire,  or 
you  will  regret  that,  for  the  moment  Mr.  Granville  suspects 
that,  he  will  start  you  out  of  his  house  and  out  of  his  employ. 
The  girl  is  a  heartless  coquette,  arid  she  would  not  cross  the 
street  to  pick  you  out  of  the  gutter,  if  you.  happened  to  fall  into 
it.  What !  not  a  word  in  reply  ?"  demanded  the  Count. 

"  No,  Count ;  I  have  nothing  to  say.  I  see  through  it  all 
now.  My  eyes  are  opened.  Why  did  you  not  tell  u»e  about 
Mrs.  Nordheim  before  ?"  asked  Marion. 

"  I  tell  you  !  That  is  cool.  Why,  my  dear  boy,  it  would 
have  done  no  good.  Salt  could  not  have  saved  you.  The  mo- 
ment Kate  Granville  informed  Mrs.  Nordheim  about  your  affair 
with  Isabella,  your  cake  was  dough.  A  woman  that  loves, 
when  she  hears  that  the  one  she  loves  is  also  in  love  with — 
another  woman.  Uah.  It  is  no  use  talking  thus.  The  affair 
is  all  over  ;  but  cheer  up,  man,  the  world  has  not  come  to  an 
end,  and  although  Mrs.  Nordheim  has  become  Mrs.  Wilson,  and 
Miss  Granville  will  shortly  become  Mrs.  Benson,  yet  there  is 
still  as  good  fish  in  the  sea  as  ever  were  caught,  and  will  be 
many  more  by  the  time  you  are  thirty  years  old,  and  if  you 
think  of  getting  married  before  that  period  of  your  age,  you 
are  perfectly  insane,"  exclaimed  the  Count. 

Marion  was  in  no  humor  to  combat  the  Count's  remarks.  IIo 
felt  convinced,  and  wanted  time  to  think.  He  only  .replied 
with  a  few  words. 

"  Count,  if  I  do  not  say  much,  it  is  because  I  feel  just  as 
though  I  should  like  to  go  and  stretch  myself.  That  will  do 
me  good.  I  am  going  to  walk  for  an  hour  with  a  gentleman  on 
the  Battery.  Not  a  very  agreeable  companion  at  this  moment. 
It  is  myself." 

"  Go  along,  my  boy  ;  and  whatever  may  chance   to  turn  up, 


VIGOR.  "225 

do  not  forgot  that  Adolph  Falsechinski  is  your  friend,"  cheer- 
ingly  said  the  Count. 

Marion  sauntered  down  to  the  Battery,  and  he  had  not 
walked  there  many  minutes  before  he  was  joined  by  Isabella 
Granville. 

"  Why,  Isabella,  I  thought  you  were  tip  at  the  wedding 
which  came  off  this  morning,"  said  Marion. 

''So  I  was,  dear  Marion  ;  but  I  have  been  back  some  time. 
I  saw  you  on  the  Battery,  and  I  ventured  to  come  and  take  a 
walk  with  you.  Was  Pa  at  the  store  when  you  came  away  V 
she  asked. 

"  He  was,"  replied  Marion  ;  "  and  I  have  no  reason  to  sup- 
pose he  will  leave  there  until  late." 

"  A  curious  wedding  this  morning.  Were  you  not  sur- 
prised at  it,  Marion  ?  and  how  did  it  happen  that  you  were  not 
present  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  was  not  invited.     In  fact,  I  knew  nothing  about  it." 

"  Were  you  not  surprised  at  it '("  asked  Isabella. 

"  Nothing  surprises  me  now.  I  should  not  be  surprised 
were  you  to  get  married  to  some  person  that  I  never  heard  of 
before,"  said  Marion. 

"  You  appear  quite  vexed  this  morning.  I  hope  you  are  not 
angry  with  me,"  softly  whispered  the  young  lady. 

"  No,  Isabella  ;  not  with  you.  I  am  vexed  with  myself.  I 
could  tell  you  a  very  singular  story,  if  I  chose  to  do  so.  Isa- 
bella, you  know  that  Mrs.  Nordheirn  was  once  a  friend  of  mine 
— a  warm  friend." 

"  T  very  much  suspect,  Marion,  that  she  was  once  very  much 
in  love  with  you,"  replied  Isabella. 

"  She  certainly  treated  me  with  kindness  until  the  day  your 
Aunt  Kate  went  up  to  her  house,  and  under  pretence  of  con- 
sulting with  her,  contrived  to  let  her  into  our  secrets,  and  told 
her  that  you  and  me  were  engaged.  That  night,  Isabella,  Mrs. 
Nordheim  gave  me  a  hint  to  go — no — not  a  hint ;  she  told  me 
she  wished  me  to  leave  her  house  as  speedily  as  possible.  I 
did  so,  and  since  then  she  has  exhibited  no  kindness  to  me. 
On  the  contrary,  not  inviting  me  to  her  wedding  this  morning, 
was  in  perfect  keeping  with  her  other  acts,"  said  Marion. 

"  And  poor  me  is  the  cause  of  this  ill-treatment,  which  you 
seem  to  take  so  much  at  heart.  What  need  you  care  for  Mrs. 
Nordheim,  or  for  Mrs.  Wilson  as  she  now  is  1  She  can  be 
nothing  more  to  you,"  said  Isabella. 

"  Indeed  she  cannot  be.     But  say  no  more  of  her,  but  let  us 

10* 


226 '  VIGOR. 

speak  of  our  own  future.  You  love  me,  Isabella,  do  you  not  ?" 
asked  Marion.- 

"  How  can  you  doubt  it,  dear  Marion  ?  I  have  told  you  so  a 
hundred  times,"  replied  Isabella. 

"  I  did  a  very  wrong  thing,  Isabella,  when  I  consented  to  be 
engaged  to  you,  to  agree  not  to  mention  it  to  your  father.  I 
have  felt  mean  ever  since.  I  have  lost  my  own  manliness  of 
character.  I  wish,  dearest  Isabella,  you  would  tell  me  this 
morning,  '  Go  to  my  father.  Tell  him  all,  and  when  he  asks 
me  if  I  love  you,  I  will  say  yes,  and  leave  the  consequence  to 
Providence.  We  shall  both  feel  easier.  We  shall  have  done 
right,  and  our  minds  will  be  relieved.'  What  do  you  say,  Isa- 
bella 1  Say  yes,"  said  Marion. 

The  fair,  but  treacherous  young  coquette  held  down  her 
head,  and  walked  some  distance  before  she  opened  her  lips. 
Then  it  was  to  say,  "  But,  Marion,  it  is  perfectly  useless.  Pa 
would  dismiss  you  from  the  store  and  from  the  house." 

"  But,"  pleaded  Marion,  "  I  could  bear  that  even,  provided 
you  assure  me  solemnly  that  you  will  still  be  constant  and  true, 
and  continue  to  love  me  until  I  am  in  a  different  situation,  and 
that  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  that  if  your  father  cannot 
be  persuaded  to  give  his  consent  to  our  marrying,  that  you 
will  be  mine  without  his  consent.  Assure  me  of  this,  and  ere 
I  sleep  to-night,  your  father  shall  know  all,"  said  Marion. 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind  if  you  really  love  me,  as 
you  say  you  do.  Pa  would  kill  me  outright.  He  made  me 
consent  to  marry  Middleton  Benson,  although  you  know  I  per- 
fectly detest  that  young  man.  But  what  could  I  do  ?  Don't 
stare  at  me  in  that  furious  manner  ;  you  quite  frighten  me," 
exclaimed  poor  Isabella. 

Marion  had  stopped  suddenly  in  his  walk  when  Isabella 
made  this  queer  statement,  and  gazed  fixedly  into  her  facr>.  At 
last  he  spoke,  and  it  was  with  such  concentrated  bitterness 
that  die  young  lady  began  to  weep. 

"  Isabel,  how  deeply,  devotedly  I  have  loved  you,  God  alone 
knows  ;  but  what  are  you  1  A.  trifling,  silly,  noncensical  dull 
baby,  or  are  you  a  young  girl  of  principle,  character  and  firm- 
ness ?  Tell  me  at  once,  and  truly,, all  the  facts  you  have  hint- 
ed at.  Has  young  Benson  offered  his  hand  to  you,  and  when  ?" 

"  Oh,  some  days  ago.  Pa  told  me  he  would  do  so,  and  that 
he  and  old  Colonel  Benson  had  arranged  it  all.  What  could  I 
do  ?  The  young  man  called.  He  told  me  he  loved  me  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  and  asked  me  if  I  would  marry  him,"  re- 
plied poor  Isabel,  crying. 


VIGOR.  227 

"  And  you,  Isabel,"  exclaimed  Marion  in  tones  somewhat 
agitated  and  rather  sternly — "  what  did  you  reply  ?" 

He  took  her  hand  in  Ms,  and  led  her  to  one  of  the  benches. 
"  I  am  very  calm,  Isa.  Sit  down  quietly  now,  and  tell  me  all 
about  it.  Of  course  you  appealed  to  his  honor — you  told  him 
that  you  had  long  loved  me — that  we  were  engaged,  and — 
and — "  said  Marion. 

"  No,  I  did  not  do  any  thing  of  the  sort,"  said  Isabel. 

"  What  did  you  say  then  when  he  asked  you  if  you  would 
marry  him  ?"  nervously  inquired  Marion. 

'•  Why,  I  had  to  tell  him  yes,  of  course — what  else  could  I 
say  ?"  pleaded  Isabella. 

Marion  dropped  the  pretty  little  hand  which  he  had  held  in 
his,  and  in  the  most  indignant  manner  addressed  the  poor 
silly  girl — 

"  I  am  ashamed  that  I  should  ever  have  lost  my  heart  to 
you.  You  profess  to  love  me,  and  say  yes  to  a  proposal  of 
marriage  from  another  !  Oh  Isabel,  had  any  one  else  told  me 
this  of  you,  I  would  have  crammed  the  words  down  his  throat. 
Do  you  love  that  young  man  ?"  asked  Marion  calmly. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  was  the  reply  of  Miss  Granville. 

"  And  yet  you  agree  to  marry  him  when  he  asks  you  !" 

"  I  had  to  do  it,"  said  Isabella. 

"  And  do  you  intend  to  marry  him  ?"  asked  Marion. 

"  I  suppose  so  :  what  else  can  I  do  ?"  replied  Isabella. 

"  Do  you  mean,  dear  Isabel,  that  you  would  do  ajiy  thing 
else  to  avoid  this  proposed  marriage  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  will.  I  don't  like  young  Benson,  and  I  do  love 
you,"  was  her  reply. 

"  Then,  Isabel,  let  us  walk  up  to  the  Bowling  Green.  There 
are  cairiages  always  standing  there.  We  will  enter  one  of 
them,  and  proceed  to  the  same  clergyman's  residence  who  mar- 
ried Mrs.  Nordheim  this  morning.  He  will  marry  us.  As  soon 
as  the  ceremony  is  performed  1  will  go  and  tell  the  whole  to 
your  father;  he  will  forgive  us.  Only  reflect  how  gratefully 
he  has  expressed  himself  at  my  saving  his  portfolio  and  books 
from  the  fire.  Come,  Isabel,  say  you  will  consent,  and  I  w'ill 
make  you  the  happiest  little  wife  that  ever  drew  breath,"  and 
again  the  little  hand  was  clasped  in  hers,  and  he  seated  him- 
self at  her  side. 

"  Why,  Marion,  what  are  you  thinking  of !  I  would  not  go 
in  this  dress,  and  if  I  was  to  go  home  and  change  it,  Aunt 
Kate  would  smell  a  rat,  and  then  there  would  be  such  a  to-do. 
Oh  no,  don't  think  of  it  any  more,"  said  Isabel. 


228  VIGOR. 

"  Really,  Isabel,  you  would  tire  out  the  patience  of  a  saint. 
The  dress  is  nothing  ;  if  you  love  me  you  will  marry  me,  and 
then  all  will  be  soon  settled.  Your  father  will  consent.  But 
if  you  will  not  go  now,  will  you  make  your  arrangements,  and 
run  away  with  ine  the  first  good  chance  you  get — say  this  eve- 
ning ?"  earnestly  demanded  Marion. 

"  I  can't  this  evening.  I  am  going  to  a  party  at  Colonel 
Benson's,  and  I  would  not  miss  going  there  for  all  the  world. 
Why  need  we  go  and  get  married  ?  Pa  will  kill  us  both  if  we 
do.  Let  him  have  his  own  way.  It  will  be  a  great  deal  bet- 
ter," replied  Isabel  Granville. 

"  Isabel,  is  this  trifling  upon  so  serious  a  subject  right  ? 
Say  that  you  will  not  marry  me,  and  then  I  shall  know  what  to 
do,''  said  Marion. 

"  I  will  marry  you — that  is,  I  like  you  better  than  that  stu- 
pid Benson,  if  Pa  will  consent ;  but  there  it  is  again,  he  will 
not  consent,  and  what  can  I  do  ?"  observed  Isabella. 

"  If  your  father  was  to  ask  you,  Isabel,  if  you  loved  me, 
what  would  you  say,  Daisy?" 

"  If  Pp  appeared  to  be  angry  when  he  asked  me,  I  should 
say  '  No.'  If  he  appeared  pleased  I  would  say  /  Yes.'  It 
would  depend  altogether  upon  circumstances.  What  else 
could  I  do  ?"  replied  the  fair  girl. 

"  My  poor  Isabel,  I  pity  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart, 
but  I  will  not  be  in  suspense  longer.  I  will  know  my  fate 
to-night.  Come,  let  us  walk  towards  the  house.  Take  my 
arm,"  said  the  angry  young  man. 

They  walked  to  the  house,  and  Marion  bade  the  young  lady 
good-bye.  From  the  house  he  went  directly  to  the  office.  Mr. 
Wilson  had  gone  home  and  Mr.  Granville  was  alone  in  his  pri- 
vate office.  When  Marion  entered  the  counting-room,  the 
Count  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  observed  in  a  low  tone, 

"  Marion,  what  is  the  matter  ?  You  seem  to  be  very  ner- 
vous and  excited,  Don't-be  rash,  whatever  you  do." 

Marion  was  in  no  humor  to  be  pacified.  At  that  moment  it 
appeared  to  him  as  though  the  world  had  but  one  object.  His 
marriage  with  Isabella  Granville,  his  clerkship,  his  property, 
all  were  forgotten.  He  stepped  hastily  into  Mr.  Granville's 
private  office.  The  old  merchant  raised  his  eyes  from  the 
letter  he  was  writing,  and  without  laying  down  his  pen,  asked 
mildly, 

"  Any  thing  particular,  Marion  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Granville,  it  is  very  particular.     I  regret  that  I 


VIGOR.  229 

have  not  told  you  before.  I  will  tell  you  now,  if  you  -will 
listen  to  me." 

The  merchant  quietly  laid  down  his  pen  and  listened  to  a 
narrative  which  seemed  to  paralyze  him  for  a  moment.  Marion 
informed  him  of  his  long  attachment — their  engagement — of 
Isabel's  anxiety  to  conceal  it — of  her  repentance  in  reference 
to  her  promise  to  marry  Benson,  and  concluded  with  inform- 
ing Mr.  Granville  that  he  was  satisfied  that  Isabel  loved  him, 
and  that  she  would  boldly  declare  it  if  he  would  not  scare  his 
daughter  when  he  asked  her  the  question.  Mr.  Granville  did 
not  interrupt  the  narrative  except  when  in  the  relating  of  it 
Marion  mentioned  the  name  of  Airs.  Tom  Granville.  He  then 
simply  inquired  the  extent  of  her  knowledge  of  what  was 
passing.  It  was  too  late  for  Marion  to  equivocate  or  excuse 
any  one.  He  told  the  truth. 

"  Wait  for  a  moment  here,"  Mr.  Granville  coldly  remarked, 
and  then  went  to  the  cashier  and  received  from  him  a  roll  of 
money.  "  Now,  Mr.  Monck,  will  you  go  with  me  ?"  politely 
asked  Mr.  Granville. 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  answered  Marion. 

There  was  not  another  word  spoken  until  both  were  inside 
Mr.  Granville's  house.  The  parlor  was  empty.  He  rang  the 
bell.  The  servant  answered  it. 

"  Tell  Miss  Isabel  I  wish  to  see  her,"  said-  the  father. 

A  moment  only  elapsed  ere  the  fair  girl  entered  the  room. 
She  blushed  deeply  when  she  saw  who  was  with  her  father 

"  Come  here,  my  child.  This  young  gentleman  has  informed 
me  that  he  has  long  been  attached  to  you,  and  believes  that 
you  are  attached  to  him;  is  it  sol"  kindly  asked  Mr.  Gran- 
ville. 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  Did  you  not  tell  young  Mr.  Benson  that  you  loved  him, 
and  that  you  would  marry  him  ?"  asked  Mr.  Granville. 

"  I  did,  Pa,"  was  the  child's  reply. 

"  Have  you  altered  your  mind,  my  darling  ?" 

"  No,  Pa,"  was  the  response,  plainly  spoken. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  marry  Mr.  Marion  Monck  ?" 

"  No,  Pa,  if  you  do  not  wish  me  to  do  so." 

"  You  can  go  to  your  room.  Send  down  your  Aunt  Kate  to 
me.  Now,  Mr.  Monck,  I  presume  you  are  satisfied,"  said 
Mr.  Granville. 

"  I  am,  air.  I  have  been  most  grossly  deceived,  and  I  would 
not  marry  her,  sir,  if  she  were  Queen  of  England,"  said  the 
indigndht  Marion. 


230  VIGOR. 

"  I  dare  say  you  would  not,  nor  as  Miss  Isabella  Granville. 
But  enough  of  this." 

Here  entered  Mrs.  Tom  Granville. 

"  Did  you  send  for  me,  brother  Granville  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  did,  madam,  and  it  was  to  place  in  your  hands  this  mo- 
ney," handing  her  a  roll.  "  I  have  had  evidence  of  how  care- 
fully you  have  guarded  my  daughter,  and  I  wish  to  relievo 
you  from  all  farther  responsibility-  in  the  matter.  Please  use 
that  money  to  go  to  Baltimore  this  afternoon,  or  so  soon  as 
you  see  fit.  I  hope  to  have  my  house  relieved  of  your  pres- 
ence before  night,"  coldly  remarked  the  exasperated  Mr. 
Granville. 

"  I  shall  not  be  here  an  hour  longer,  I  can  assure  you, 
brother  of  mine" — and,  turning  to  Marion — "  I  hope  some  day 
to  thank  you  for  your  manliness  in  revealing  secrets  to  Mr. 
Granville  which,  as  a  gentleman,  you  had  no  right  to  reveal. 
I  wish  you  both  farewell." 

Aunt  Kate  left  the  room.  Meanwhile  Mr.  Granville  seized 
a  pen  and  wrote  a  note,  carefully  sealing  it.  It  was  directed 
to  the  cashier  of  his  concern.  "  Take  this,  sir,"  he  said,  ad- 
dressing Marion,  "  and  go  to  the  office.  The  cashier  to  whom 
it  is  addressed  will  make  up  your  account  and  give  you  a  check 
for  what  salary  is  due  you.  I  will  remain  here  until  you  re- 
turn. If  there  is  not  money  in  the  office,  tell  him  to  till  up  a 
check,  and  I  will  sign  it  here.  Bring  the  cartman  with  you 
when  you  return.  I  wish  you  to  remove  from  my  house  as 
speedily  as  possible.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  add  that  I 
shall  have  no  further  need  of  you  in  my  business  ;  in  fact,  I 
wish  our  acquaintance  to  end  to-night  in  all  ways  and  shapes,1' 
sternly  observed  the  merchant.. 

"  I  can  assure  you  that  in  this  matter,  Mr.  Granville,  I  will 
be  as  obedient  as  I  have  ever  been  to  your  wishes,"  was 
Marion's  response. 

"  Thank  you.  I  regret  what  has  occurred,  but  it  cannot  be 
helped.  After  what  has  passed,  your  own  good  sense  will 
point  out  to  you  that  our  acquaintance  is  at  an  end,"  said  Mr. 
Granville. 

Marion  bowed,  but  did  not  venture  to  reply.  He  carried  the 
note  to  the  office.  The  cashier  made  up  his  account,  and 
drew  a  check  for  the  balance.  The  Count  had  left  the  office. 

"  Are  you  going  to  leave  us  ?"  asked  the  kind-hearted 
cashier. 

"  I  believe  30,"  was  the  reply. 


VIGOR.  231 

"  Take  the  check  to  Mr.  Granville  to  be  signed.  Here  is 
your  account,  on  which  I  have  placed  my  initials." 

Marion  then  found  the  cnrtman  and  proceeded  to  State 
street.  The  check  was  signed  by  Mr.  Granville  without  a 
word  of  comment.  Marion  went  up  to  his  room,  packed  his 
things,  and  one  of  the  servants  of  Mr.  Granville  who  had  gone 
up  with  him  helped  him  to  bring  his  trunks  down  stairs,  and 
they  were  placed  upon  the  cart.  "  Where  shall  I  go  ?"  asked 
the  cartman.  For  a  moment,  Marion  appeared  confused.  He 
did  not  know  where  to  go.  He  thought  of  Mr.  Wilson's  old 
place,  and  then  he  told  the  cartman  to  drive  to  Clark  &  Brown's, 
in  Maiden  lane.  There  he  went  and  there  we  will  leave  him. 

After  Marion's  departure,  Mr.  Granville  despatched  a  note 
to  Col.  Benson.  That  gentleman  replied  to  it  by  calling  in 
person.  The  two  gentlemen  were  alone  for  a  long  time.  Mrs. 
Kate  Granville  had  been  taken  with  her  baggage  to  the  Phila- 
delphia train  before  Colonel  Benson  arrived.  She  did  not  bid 
her  brother-in-law  good-bye  a  second  time,  but  pressed  Isa- 
bella to  her  heart  when  she  lefc  her  in  her  own  room.  We 
will  not  go  into  any  unnecessary  details,  but  will  come  at  once 
to  results.  That  evening  a  small  party  was  assembled  at  Mr. 
Granville's  residence.  Colonel  Benson,  his  wife,  his  daughter, 
and  his  son  were  there.  A  venerable  clergyman  was  also 
present,  and  before  he  left,  Mr.  Middleton  Benson  became  the 
husband  of  Isabella  Granville. 

The  simple  girl  was  very  pale,  but  she  made  the  responses 
during  the  ceremony  with  a  firm  voice,  and  it  would  have  been, 
difficult  for  a  stranger  to  have  noticed  that  she  was  dissatised 
in  the  least  with  her  share  in  the  proceedings.  Mr.  Granville 
appeared  satisfied  that  he  was  doing  a  good  deed,  and  provid- 
ing well  for  a  favorite  child.  Colonel  Benson,  also,  was  not 
displeased.  His  son  had  made  what  is  called  a  good  match. 
The  settlements  made  by  Mr.  Granville  were  unexceptionable, 
and  of  the  most  liberal  character.  He  was  entirely  ignorant 
that  Isabella  had  any  previous  attachment,  for  Mr.  Granville 
had  considered  it  unnecessary  to  mention  what  he  deemed  a 
childish  attachment.  Middletou  acted  like  a  child  who  had 
become  possessed  of  a  pretty  toy  that  he  had  admired  for  a 
long  time. 

It  had  been  decided  by  the  old  people  that  the  new  married 
couple  should  continue  to  reside  in  State  street,  at  the  old 
mansion,  and  Mr.  Granville  was  to  live  with  them  at  least  for 
a  time.  So  closed  the  day,  eventful  by  the  fact  of  the  two 
marriages. 


232  VIGOR. 


CHAPTER    XL. 

Clark  fr  Brown  t  Coffee  JTous"  in  Maiden  Lane— Marion  Monrk  in  his  nne 
Qu  triers — The  Count  Pnlstch  nski  calls  upon  him  with  on  offer  of  money — • 
Meets  Mr.  Binnet  in  Nassau  x/reet,  and  acC'>mp(ini<.s  hi'ii  home — Pome  cu- 
rious facts  in  rffertnce  to  the  Editor  of  the  Herald — Its  Early  Hi  tory,  anl 
the  real  secret  character  of  Mr.  Bennett. 

MARION  removed  with  his  baggage  to  the  coffee-house  in 
Maiden  Lane.  It  was  a  lodging  house  and  a  restaurant  com- 
bined. It  furnished  rooms  at  the  moderate  sum  of  two  and  a 
half  dollars  a  week,  and  the  occupant  had  it  optional  with  him- 
self where  to  get  his  meals.  He  had  to  pay  xfor  what  he  or- 
dered, and  if  he  chose  to  live  expensively  and  consume  the 
choicest  bits  in  the  larder,  he  could  do  so,  or  he  could  live  on 
a  more  simple  fare,  or  he  could,  in  case  of  stern  necessity, 
live  on  bread  and  water. 

When  the  room  had  been  selected,  his  baggage  carried  into 
it,  and  he  felt  located,  Marion  came  down  into  the  bar-room, 
and  ordered  a  glass  of  hot  whiskey  punch  and  a  cigar.  He 
had  already  learned  the  way  to  drown  sorrow.  He  had  not 
long  been  seated  in  the  bar-room  ere  the  Count  Falsechinski 
entered. 

"  Aha,  Monsieur  Marion.  I  am  seeking  for  you,"  was  his 
first  address,  as  he  took  a  chair  and  seated  himself  by  the  side 
of  our  hero. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Count,  particularly  to-night.  I  sup- 
pose you  have  heard  that  I  am  no  longer  one  of  the  white 
slaves  of  Mr.  Granville,"  observed  Marion  with  a  good  deal  of 
bitterness. 

"  It  was  the  merest  accident  in  the  world.  I  was  at  the 
office  towards  night,  and  the  cashier  told  me  that  you  had  been 
paid  off,  and  while  he  was  relating  this  to  me,  the  cart  man, 
Billy  Christie,  entered,  and  from  him  I  learned  that  he  had 
carted  you  and  your  baggage  to  this  place.  What  led  to  the 
explosion,  and  your  sudden  dismissal,  is  beyond  my  present 
knowledge,  and  if  you  will  favor  me  with  all  the  particulars  I 
shall  feel  very  much  obliged,  and  my  mind  will  be  very  much 
relieved,''  replied  the  Count. 


VIGOR.  233 

* 

Marion  cheerfully  complied  with  this  reasonable  request., 
and  commenced  as  follows  : 

"  Count,  I  deemed  your  advice  good,  and  I  followed  it  to 
the  letter.  I  determined  to  know  my  fate— to  know  the 
worst." 

Then  Marion  continued,  and  told  the  Count  all  that  our 
readers  have  been  informed  respecting  the  events  of  the  day. 
The  Count  replied, 

"  Nothing  but  what  I  expected,  my  dear  boy.  I  suppose 
you  are  satisfied  now  that  what  I  told  you  is  true,  that  you 
have  nothing  to  hope  for  in  the  case  of  Miss  Granville." 

"  I  am  satisfied  that  Mr.  Granville  is  a  hard-hearted,  un- 
grateful man,  and  all  my  services  to  him  go  for  nothing,"  said 
Marion. 

"  Of  course  they  do.  He  is  like  all  the  rest  of  mankind — 
no  more  nor  less.  As  long  as  you  were  of  service  to  him,  ho 
was  your  friend.  You  cross  his  purpose,  and  you  are  kicked 
out  without  a  word.  Have  you  any  money  ?"  asked  the  Count 
very  kindly. 

"  Plenty  ;  he  paid  the  balance  of  my  salary,  and  I  have  a 
couple  of  hundred  dollars  in  my  pocket,"  said  Marion. 

"  Two  hundred  dollars  judiciously  spent  will  enable  you  to 
carry  on  the  war  for  some  time.  I  was  afraid  you  had  no  mo- 
ney, and  came  to  request  that  you  would  make  me  your  bank- 
er. I  am  a  rich  man,  and  you  need  but  to  ask  me  for  money 
to  obtain  it  in  any  quantity.  I  have  had  an  idea  of  leaving 
the  employ  of  Mr.  Granville  for  some  time.  I  shall  do  so  at 
once.  He  has  treated  you  so  badly  that  it  will  no  longer  be  a 
pleasure  to  remain  with  or  be  connected  with  him,"  remarked 
the  amiable  Count. 

"  I  thank  you,  Count,  for  your  generous  offer — and  I  will 
add,  that  did  I  need  assistance  I  would  at  once  go  to  you  for 
it,"  replied  Marion. 

"  That  is  right  ;  and  now  I  wish  to  give  you  some  advice. 
Don't  take  any  situation  for  the  present.  These  changes  make 
a  more  sensible  man.  You,  I  dare  say,  Marion,  think  that 
losing  your  situation  with  Mr.  Granville  will  be^a  great  injury 
to  you.  No  such  thing.  It  will  be  of  service.  '  A  young  man 
who  is  in  one  position  too  long  g3ts  stereotyped.  You  had  no- 
thing to  expect  more  from  him.  You  have  learned  all  that  is 
to  be  learned  in  that  shop.  Now  you  must  try  something 
else.  But  don't  be  in  a  hurry.  I  have  something  in  view 
for  you,  but  my  plans  are  not  quite  matured  yet.  As  soon  as 
they  are,  I  shall  need  ypur  services,  and  you  will  find  your 


234  VIGOR. 

* 

situation  much  bettered  from  what  it  was  yesterday.  One 
thing  I  must  insist  upon  ;  don't  fall  in  love  again  with  the 
next  pretty  face  you  meet,"  said  the  Count  good-humoredly. 

Here  they  were  surprised  by  the  entrance  of  a  young  clerk 
of  Mr.  Grranville,  who  had  been  a  warm  friend  of  Marion.  His 
eyes  were  sparkling  with  excitement,  and  he  hastily  observed, 

"  Well,  Marion',  I  have  got  some  news  that  I  thought  you 
would  like  to  hear,  and  so  1  came  around  to  tell  you.  I  have 
just  been  to  all  the  morning  papers  with  an  advertisement." 

"  What  was  it  about,  Benny  ?"  demanded  Marion. 

"  It  was  a  notice  of  the  marriage  of  Miss  Bell  with  Mr. 
Benson  this  evening  ;  Mr.  Grranville  sent  me  with  it,"  replied 
the  boy  named  Benny. 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  the  Count,  I  like  that.  That  is-  caging 
the  pretty  bird  with  a  vengeance.  So,  it  is  all  over  at  last. 
Marion,  my  boy,  allow  me  to  congratulate  you  with  all  my 
heart.  I  hope  you  are  cured  now,  eh  ?" 

Marion  did  not  speak  ;  he  was  very  pale  and  very  angry. 
He  walked  across  the  room  rapidly  several  times,  ordered  more 
punch,  and  then  reseated  himself. 

"  It  is  a  bitter  medicine,  Count,  but  it  is  all  for  the  best  ; 
and  as  you  say,  I  am  satisfied.  Thank  you,  Benny,  for  the 
news.  Come  and  see  me  when  you  have  a  spare  moment." 

Bennj  took  his  leave,  and  soon  after  the  Count  followed  his 
example.  When  Marion  retired  to  his  room  that  night,  it  was 
not  to  sleep  ;  his  mind  was  too  excited  for  that.  He  lay 
awake  thinking  over  plans  for  the  future  ;  but  before  any  par- 
ticular one  to  suit  him  had  been  presented  to  his  mind's  eye, 
he  fell  asleep,  and  it  was  at  a  late  hour  the  next  morning 
when  he  awoke.  It  all  seemed  like  a  dream.  He  hastily 
dressed  himself,  hurried  down  to  the  bar-room,. snatched  up  a 
morning  paper,  and  in  it  found  the  marriage  notice  alluded  to 
by  the  boy  Benny. 

"  No,  no,"  he  exclaimed,  "  it  ie  no  dream  ;  it  is  all  true."     ' 

He  read  no  more,  but  went  into  the  dining  room  and  ordered 
a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  light  breakfast,  and  when  he  had  finished 
this  slight  i^past,  feeling  much  better,  he  smoked  a  cigar, 
and  took  his  way  up  Nassau  street.  Once  or  twice  he  turned 
about  with  his  face  towards  the  store.  How  odd  it  is  to 
change  onr  habits,  and  refrain  from  frequenting  old  haunts  ! 
For  years  Mariou's  footsteps  had  taken  him  in  the  direction  of 
Mr.  Granville's  counting  room.  Suddenly  he  found  himself 
cut  off  from  going  there  any  more.  He  could  hardly  realize  it, 
and  he  felt  an  isolation  that  can  only  be  understood  by  those 


VIGOR.  235 

who  have  experienced  it.  He  wended  his  way  xip  to  the 
Clinton  Hall,  in  which  building  was  the  Mercantile  Library 
Association.  He  had  never  omitted  to  pay  his  dues  at  that 
knowledge-fountain  for  young  clerks,  and  had  never  discon- 
nected himself  from  it,  although  for  a  long  time  he  had  not 
availed  himself  fully  of  its  privileges.  This  morning  he  saun- 
tered in,  was  accosted  cheerfully  by  the  librarian,  and  for  an 
hour  or  more  he  amused  himself  by  reading  one  of  the  Euro- 
pean publications  found  upon  its  tables.  Tired  of  this,  Marion 
again  sought  the  street,  and  passed  out  of  the  Hall  by  the  Nas- 
sau street  entrance.  He  halted  for  a  moment  on  the  step,  and 
was  accosted  by  a  person  who  was  passing,  with  a  "  Good 
morning,  sir." 

"  Good  morning,"  replied  Marion,  but  at  that  instant  he 
recognized  the  speaker,  and  added,  "  Ah,  Mr.  Bennett,  I  did 
not  at  first  recognize  you  ;  how  do  you  do,  sir  ?" 

"  Very  well  ;  and  what  are  you  doing  up  near  little  Wall 
street  ?  I  thought  your  researches  did  not  extend  above  the 
lower  Wall  street,"  said  Mr.  Bennett,  laughing,  for  he  had 
already  nicknamed  Ann  street,  in  which  the  Herald  office  was 
located,  as  '  Little  Wall  street.' 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  am  connected  with  Wall  street  or 
Broad  street  any  more  ;  I  am  out  of  mercantile  business,"  said 
Marion. 

"  Indeed  !     How  long  since  ?"  asked  Mr.  Bennett. 

"  Twenty-four  hours,"  replied  Marion. 

Mr.  Bennett  added,  "  Then  your  time  cannot  be  much  occu- 
pied, and  you  will  have  leisure  to  go  over  the  way  to  my 
room.  Come  along  with  me." 

Marion  did  as  Mr.  Bennett  desired,  and  went  over  to  the 
editor's  room.  At  that  time,  directly  opposite  Clinton  Hall  in 
Nassau  street,  there  stood  five  brick  three-story  buildings, 
about  twenty  feet  wide  each.  The  lower  floors  were  occupied 
as  stores  and  Ihe  upper  part  as  boarding  houses.  It  was  in 
the  third  building  from  the  corner  of  Beekman  that  Mr.  Ben- 
nett  had  his  quarters  Marion  followed  his  conductor  up  flie 
narrow  stairs  to  the  third  floor,  and  into  the  froBt  room  over- 
looking Nassau  street. 

"  This  is  .my  sanctum,"  =aid  the  editor,  "and  now  take  a 
seat  and  make  yourself  at  home.  I  have  a  Hue  to  write,  and 
then  I  will  talk  to  you." 

Marion  glanced  his  eyes  about  the  sleeping  apartment  of  the 
man  who  was  even  then  making  himself  felt  in  journalism. 
There  was  a  maple  single  bedstead  in  one  corner  of  the  room, 


236  VIGOR. 

and  between  the  windows  was  a  table  with  but  very  few  papers 
upon  it ;  for  it  is  a  very  extraordinary  fact  that  this  remarka- 
ble editor,  even  in  after  years,  when  an  accumulation  of  letters  ' 
and  masses  of  manuscript  read  and  received  would  have  been 
on  his  hands,  never  appeared  to  have  many  papers  about  him  ; 
all  were  disposed  of  summarily  and  systematically,  and  but 
few  papers  covered  his  table.  There  were  one  or  two  books 
recently  published,  sent  in  to  be  noticed.  On  one  .corner  of 
the  table  was  a  small  pocket  edition  of  Shakespeare,  with  leaves 
innumerable  turned  down  as  an  index,  and  many  little  slips  of 
paper  markers  between  the  leaves.  The  imprint  was  "  Glasgow  : 
1814."  The  editor  had  now  finished  what  he  was  writing,  and 
noticing  that  Marion  had  examined  the  little  volume,  he 
observed,  "  That  volume  is  a  great  favorite  of  mine.  I  value 
it  not  only  as  '  Shakespeare,'  but  as  an  old  familiar  friend.  I 
brought  it  with  me  from  Scotland.  It  was  my  only  companion 
from  Charleston  here,  and  in  many  of  my  wanderings  it  has 
l)^3ii  the  only  book  I  owned,  as  it  is  now  the  only  book  I  own. 
I  would  not  part  with  it  for  its  weight  in  gold. — You  told  nie 
you  had  left  commerce.  How  is  that  ?" 

Marion  then  informed  him  of  what  had  passed  to  the  extent 
that  he  had  parted  from  Mr.  Granville. 

"  And  what  do  you  intend  to  do  now  ?"  asked  the  editor. 

"  I  don't  exactly  know.  I  presume  I  shall  find  some  open- 
ing for  me.  I  have  served  an  apprenticeship  of  over  seven 
years,  and  it  would  seem  like  folly  to  throw  all  the  information 
I  have  acquired  in  that  time  away,  and  seek  some  other  em- 
ployment," said  Marion. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  connect  yourself  with  newspaper 
life  ?  I  think  you  would  succeed  very  well,"  observed  the 
editor. 

"  Me  !  I  never  wrote  a  line  in  my  life  to  be  printed,"  was 
Marion's  reply. 

"  It  don't  follow  that  you  could  not  do  it.  On  the  contrary, 
I  think  you  would  write  well  with  a  little  practice.  Do  you 
remember  that  boarding-house  story  you  told  at  the  dinner  the 
day  you  became  of  age  ?  That  was  very  amusing.  If  I  had  it 
now  I  would  publish  it,.  If  you  could  write  that,  precisely  as 
you  told  it,  it  would  make  a  qapital  article,"  suid  the  editor. 

"  You  flatter  me,  Mr.  Bennett ;  but  I  ain  afraid  I  should 
make  a  poor  hand  at  a  newspaper  article.  I  must  stick  to 
business,  and  I  suppose  I  shall  find  something  to  do  ere  long," 
answered  Marion. 

"  If  you  do  not,  come  and  see  me,"  Mr.  Bennett  replied. 


VIGOR.  .     237 

"  I  am  rarely  mistaken  in  my  estimate  of  a  person's  ability, 
and  I  will  give  you  a  trial  whenever  you  are  so  disposed.  So 
Miss  Granville  is  married1?" 

"  Yes  sir.  She  was  married  last  night.  You  must  have 
noticed  it  in  the  morning  papers  ?"  said  Marion. 

"  I  did.  What  passes  among  my  friends,  or  my  enemies, 
for  that  matter,  rarely  escapes  my  attention.  I  generally  get 
hold  of  it  early.  And  my  white-cravated  friend  Wilson  has 
also  married  ?  Why,  marriage  seems  to  be  the  order  of  the 
day  in  your  quarter  of  the  city.  Bye-and-bye  I  suppose  you 
will  be  following  the  example  of  some  of  these  people.  What 
has  become  of  the  Count  Falsechiuski1?  He  is  a  very  curious 
fellow,  that,"  said  the  editor. 

Marion  made  a  reply,  not  noticing  the  marriage  allusion.  It 
was  a  sore  subject  to  him  ;  and  soon  after  he  remarked  that 
he  knew  the  value  of  an  editor's  time,  anr.  would  not  trespass 
longer  upon  it,  and  he  took  his  leave.  Before  doing  .so,  the 
editor  gave  him  a  cordial  invitation  to  call  upon  him  at  any 
time  he  found  convenient,  that  he  should  always  be  happy  to 
see  him.  This  was  an  invitation  that  Mr.  Bennett  gave  to  very 
few  people  of  the  tens  of  thousands  that  he  came  in  contact 
with  then  and  in  after  years. 

That  scene  in  a  Nassau  street  boarding-house  occurred  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago.  That  editor  was  as  conscious  of 
power  at  that  time  as  he  is  now.  He  cared  nothing  for  money 
then,  save  to  serve  the  great  purpose  of  his  life,  the  establish- 
ment of  a  great  independent  daily  journal,  modelled  after  his" 
own  ideas  of  what  a  daily  journal  should  be.  He  worked  then 
with  brain  and  hands — mentally  and  physically,  to  achieve  suc- 
cess, and  he  succeeded.  He  had  commenced  with  a  partner, 
a  stupid  jackass,  in  Ann  street.  After  the  fire,  which  had 
burned  out  his  establishment,  Mr.  Bennett  started  again,  alone, 
with  a  solemn  determination  that  for  his  natural  life  he  would 
have  no  more  to  do  with  partners.  He  planted  upon  the  He.- 
rald  its  imprint,  "  James  Gordon  Bennett,  Editor  and  Propri- 
etor," and  it  has  never  been  changed  to  this  day.  His  old 
partner  started  an  opposition  paper,  another  Herald,  but  that 
soon  died  out,  and  Mr.  Bennett  was  in  the  field  alone.  lie 
was  not  inexperienced  in  journalism  in  the  city  of  New  York, 
for  as  early  as  1827  he  started  in  Chatham  Square  a  small 
daily,  which  he  sold  for  one  cent.  It  did  not  last  long.  Later 
he  started  a  Sunday  paper.  He  was  for  a  long  time  connected 
with  a  paper  that  the  celebrated  Henry  Eckford  owned,  called 
the  National  Advocate.  His  connection  with  Webb  and  Noah 


238  .  VIGOR. 

» 

is  well  known.  He  made  these  men  famous,  and  when  he  left 
the  Courier  and  Enquirer,  it  was  to  connect  himself  with  a 
daily  journal  in  Philadelphia.  From  thence  he  came  to  New 
York,  and  soon  after  the  Herald  sprang  into  existence.  Mr. 
Bennett  was  then  what  he  has  been  in  more  mature  age,  quiet, 
reserved  and  thoughtful.  Words  may  escape  his  memory,  but 
never  an  idea,  or  a  new  idea.  Few  men  can  distinguish  so 
readily  the  difference  between  mere  words,  however  prettily 
expressed,  and  words  that  convey  ideas.  He  has  ever  used  a 
small  memorandum  book.  In  it  he  writes  a  catch  word  to  a 
thought  or  an  idea.  This  book  is  the  key  to  the  editorials  in 
his  paper  of  that  or  the  ensuing  day,  or  used  to  recall  an  idea, 
a  fact,  or  the  heading  fur  an  article  weeks  or  months  after  it 
was  noted,  and  eventually  became  the  subject  matter  for  a 
"  leader,"  or  a  series  of  editorials  of  a  thundering  or  startling 
character. 

He  is  both  shy  and  extremely  sensitive.  He  admits  few  to 
any  degree  of  intimacy  with  him.  Those  that  he  so  selects 
must  be  original  men,  who  are  able  to  suggest  new  ideas,  or 
strike  out  ne»v  aod  startling  subjects — men  who  have  travelled, 
and  who  can  give  him  information  upon  subjects  that  he  did 
not  know  before.  All  is  fish  that  comes  to  his  net.  He  values 
men  as  they  contribute  to  the  success  of  his  journal.  Person. 
ally  he  is  as  cold  as  an  icicle.  With  a  man  of  information,  he 
will  talk  out  an  editorial  in  the  very  presence  of  the  man  who 
has  originated  the  ideas  or  facts  upon  which  it  is  based.  He 
will  enlarge  upon  the  emanations  of  the  minds  of  others  so 
that  when  they  read  the  very  editorial  a  few  days  afterwards, 
and  recognize  its  groundwork  or  base,  they  will  be  perfectly 
astounded  at  the  beauty  and  symmetry  of  its  appearance,  its 
ornaments,  and  the  genius  of  the  entire  editorial  structure.  If 
a  statesman  calls  upon  him,  and  he  possesses  genius,  original- 
ity, or  information  of  any  kind,  past,  present  or  future,  that  is 
unknown  to  Mr.  Bennett,  the  eyes  of  the  latter  sparkle — he 
moves  uneasily  in  his  chair,  or  rouses  himself  up  if  reclining 
on  a  sofa,  and  leads  off  in  conversation  until  he  draws  his  man 
out,  and  has  drained  him  dry.  Then  perhaps  he  will  talk  ou 
for  his  own  practice,  or  to  impress  the  subject  more  fully  upon 
his  own  memory,  or  to  shape  it  for  an  editorial.  Some  editors 
write  out  their  thoughts — 3Fr.  Bennett  thinks  them  out,  in  his 
solitary  hours,  and  is  as  ready  to  dictate  a  complete  editorial 
from  his  tongue,  as  others  were  to  write  one.  Some  days  a 
gentleman  will  see  in  the  next  day's  Herald  an  analysis  of  his 
own  conversation  with  the  editor  the  evening  previous.  What 


VIGOR.  239 

he  acquires  from  anybody  goes  into  the  editorial  mind  and 
mill,  and  the  editorial  miller  grinds  it  and  adopts  it  as  his  own, 
and  forgets  where  it  came  from  ;  and  so  completely  does  it  bo- 
come  a  part  of  himself,  that  he  will  use  the  identical  idea  or 
fact  to  the  very  man  who  gave  it  to  him,  unless  perhaps  he  has 
previously  used  it  in  the  Herald  editorials. 

Many  men,  or  rather  the  vast  majority  of  mankind  who  read 
the  Herald,  have  no  real  idea  of  the  character,  mind  or  habits 
of  the  editor  and  proprietor.  They  regard  him  as  a  lucky  in- 
dividual, who  as  an  editor  has  prospered  in  life  in  a  financial 
point  of  view,  and  is  enabled  to  cluster  around  him  men  of 
talent,  and  that  these  writers  make  the  great  newspaper  that 
the  Herald  unquestionably  is.  This  is  true  but  to  a  very  lim- 
ited extent.  Those  men  carry  out  ideas  that  originate  with  the 
proprietor.  His  mind  is  unceasing  in  its  activity.  It  is  never 
idle.  He  comes  to  his  office  charged  with  matter  for  his  edi- 
torials. He  calls  in  one  reporter  to  his  private  sanctum.  Dic- 
tating a  column  perhaps  upon  one  subject,  the  reporter  takes 
it  down  in  short  hand  in  five  or  ten  minutes,  and  goes  out  to 
his  desk  to  write  it  out.  Another  reporter  succeeds  him.  Mr. 
Bennett  is  perhaps  ten  minutes  more  in  dictating  another  col- 
umn, upon  another  subject.  So  it  goes  on  for  an  hour,  until 
editorial  articles  of  the  highest  importance  are  dictated.  The 
reporters  write  out  these  articles.  They  are  sent  up  to  the 
printing  office,  and  all  the  force  is  put  on  them.  Mr.  Bennett, 
if  he  chooses,  can  read  the  corrected  proof,  and  yef,  not  be  de  • 
tained  more  than  an  hour  at  the  office  from  the  time  he  arrived. 
Such  are  the  inner  workings  of  the  Herald  office. 

Money,  this  singular  man  regards  as  dross,  except  so  far  as 
it  contributes  to  the  increase  of  his  paper.  Show  Mr.  Bennett 
a  mode  by  which  he  could  make  a  million  certain  in  a  specula- 
tion, and  he  would  laugh  at  the  proposal  but  decline  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  the  affair.  This  can  be  said  of  him  with 
truth,  that  he  never  speculated  to  the  extent  of  a  dollar  in  his 
life,  and  never  prostituted  or  used  the  columns  of  his  paper 
to  forward  the  speculations  or  private  objects  of  others  know- 
ingly. Show  him  a  working  plan  of  type  and  press  that  would 
strike  off  a  million  of  copies  an  hour,  and  he  would  buy  it,  if 
it  cost  a  million,  nnd  would  not  give  a  penny  more  for  it,  were 
he  guaranteed  the  exclusive  use  of  it.  He  wants  the  best  of 
everything  that  increases  the  power  of  the  Herald,  but  he 
cares  not  a  fig  if  the  rival  papers  have  the  same  facilities.  He 
wants  the  machinery  of  the  Herald  equal  to  any  other  paper. 
He  don't  want  any  to  exceed  hijn,  but  he  cares  not  how  near 


240  ^  VIGOR. 

they  approach  him,  if  they  have  the  genius  and  means  to  do  so 
The  Herald  is  himself — lie  knows  no  other  joy  or  pleasure 
compared  with  it.  It  is  his  god — his  idol — his  all  ;  and  every 
thing  else  falls  below  it  in  his  mind.  His  is  a  terrible  power, 
and  he  knbws  it.  He  is  conscious  that  every  line  tells  upon 
thousands  of  the  human  race. 

He  has  the  giant's  power,  but  does  not  use  it  like  a  giant. 
If  Mr.  Bennett  had  malice,  he  could  dictate  an  editorial  that 
would  set  New  York  by  the  ears,  and  have  mobs  and  riots 
every  week  of  his  life.  But  no — that  he  does  not  regard  as 
the  proper  vocation  of  a  great  newspaper  conductor. 

We  are  somewhat  in  advance  of  our  story,  but  the  author 
has  written  of  a  man  who  twenty-five  years  ago  was  what  he  is 
now,  save  success — which  be  had  not  then  reached.  People 
have  an  idea  that  the  Herald  twenty-five  years  ago  was  a  hor- 
rible paper.  It  was  not  so,  and  would  not  appear  so  if  the  old 
files  were  re-published  to-day.  When  Mr.  Bennett  started 
the  Herald  he  published  every  thing  that  occurred  or  that  was 
talked  about  in  the  street.  At  that  time  it  was  an  innovation 
upon  the  old  established  newspaper  custom,  and  the  Herald 
was  regarded  as  an  immoral  publication.  Now  the  same  things 
are  published  daily,  only  a  hundred  times  worse,  by  every 
daily  paper,  but  nothing  is  thought  of  it. 


CHAPTER   XLL 

Mr.  Wilson  demands  explanations  of  Mr  Granmlle,  his  Partner,  in  respert  to 
the  discharn".  of  Marion  Monck — Mr.  Granvil  e  gives  them — Wilson  invites 
Marion  to  his  house  to  dine— Cordial  reception  by  Mrs.  Wilson — Thebad.inc- 
cess  of  M'irion's  friends  in  procuring  him  another  clerkship — Marion  becomes 
dissipated — Gets  acquainted  with  Theatrical  Managers  and  Actors — Gives 
suppers  and  dines  in  restaurants — The  Count  Falsechinski  wakes  him  up  to  a 
higher  cuurse. 

THE  sensation  created  upon  the  minds  of  Mr  and  Mrs.  Wil- 
son at  their  breakfast  the  morning  after  their  o.vn  marriage, 
when  they  read  in  the  morning  papers  of_  another  marriage, 
that  of  young  Benson  with  Isabella  Granville,  can  be  better 
imagined  than  described. 

"  Impossible  !  What  can  it  mean,  Richard  !'"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Wilson. 

Each  offered  half  a  dozen  supposable  cases,  but  none  were 
satisfactory.  At  last  Mr.  Wilson  remarked,  "  It  is  beyond  my 
ability  to  solve  the  riddle.  I  know  of  but  one  way  to  ascertain 


VIGOR.  241 

the  facts,  and,  my  dear,  as  you  appear  to  be  so  anxious  about 
the  matter,  I  will  go  at  once  and  find  out  all  about  it.  When 
I  come  home  to  dinner  you  shall  know  all." 

With  this  understanding  Mr.  Wilson  left  home,  and  pro- 
ceeded down  town.  At  the  head  of  Wall  street,  opposite 
Trinity  Church,  he  met  the  Count  Falsechinski.  The  Count 
immediately  told  Mr.  Wilson  all  he  knew  about  the  matter. 
Mr,  Wilson  asked,  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Marion  Monck 
has  been  discharged  from  our  employ  by  Mr.  Granville  ?" 

"  In  the  most  peremptory  manner.  Paid  off,  too.  I  met 
him  at  his  new  lodging  place,  for  he  left  the  house  of  Mr.  Gran- 
ville last  night,  bag  and  baggage,  and  took  up  his  quarters  at 
your  old  place  in  Maiden  Lane.  I  think  he  has  the  identical 
room  that  you  occupied  when  you  boarded  in  that  house,"  re- 
marked the  Count. 

"  I  must  see  about  this.  It  is  rather  a  high-handed  proceed- 
ing, I  think,  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Granville,  to  discharge  that 
young  man  and  not  say  a  word  to  me.  I  thank  you,  Count,  for 
your  information.  We  shall  meet  goon  at  the  office.  In  the 
meantime,  goud-byc,"  said  Mr.  Wilson,  and  passed  onward  to 
the  counting-room. 

Mr.  Granville  had  just  arrived.  When  Mr.  Wilson  entered 
the  office,  he  walked  up  to  his  partner  and  congratulated  him 
upon  the  marriage  of  his  daughter,  adding,  "  It  seems  to  have 
happened  in  a  hurry,  or  I  presume  you  would  have  informed 
me  that  so  important  an  event  was  to  take  place  in  your 
family. " 

Mr.  Granville  replied,  "  Yes,  Wilson,  it  was  a  marriage  got 
up  somewhat  hastily,  but  I  had  my  reasons.  Walk  in  the  pri- 
vate office,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it." 

Both  partners  remained  closeted  together  for  some  time,  and 
when  Mr.  Wilson  re-appeared,  he  seemed  worried,  and  not  at 
all  satisfied.  He  took  his  hat,  and  left  the  office  for  Maiden 
Lane.  At  the  coffee-house  of  Clark  &  Brown  he  found  Marion, 
who  had  just  returned  from  his  visit  to  Mr.  Bennett.  He  put 
out  his  hand  in  the  most  cordial  manner,  and  observed,  "  I 
hope,  Marion,  you  do  not  think  that  I  have  had  any  hand  in 
your  abrupt  dismissal  from  our  employment." 

"  No  indeed,  sir,"  replied  Marion.  "  I  know  to  whom  I  am 
indebted,  and  it  could  not  well  have  happened  otherwise.  I 
blame  no  one.  Not  even  Mr.  Granville.  He  has  acted  in  the 
matter  as  he  deemed  would  most  conduce  to  his  own  happiness, 
and  I  have  not  a  word  to  say.  I  trust  it  will  prove  for  the 
best." 

11 


242  VIGOR. 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  find  you  take  it  so  coolly,  and  like  a 
philosopher.  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  now  ?  You  must 
not  remain  idle,"  said  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  I  have  not  settled  upon  any  definite  plan.  I  shall  be 
forced  to  remain  idle  for  a  short  time  at  least,  although  I  hope 
it  will  not  be  long,  for  mine  is  not  a  disposition  to  keep  quiet. 
I  must  find  some  thing  to  do,  or  I  shall  die,"  replied  Marion. 

Mr.  Wilson  rejoined,  "  Come  with  me  this  afternoon  to  din- 
ner. I  will  take  no  excuse.  Mrs.  Nordheim — I  mean  my 
wife — will  be  pleased  to  see  you.  I  will  not  take  '  No  '  for  an 
answer.  Go  you  must." 

Thus  invited,  Marion,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Wilson,  walked 
up  town  to  the  residence  of  that  gentleman.  Mrs.  Wilson 
welcomed  Marion  cordially.  Dinner  was  not  quite  ready,  and 
Mr.  Wilson  unfolded  his  budget  of  news.  He  informed  his 
wife  of  all  the  reasons  that  Mr.  Granville  had  given  for  his 
urging  on  the  marriage  of  his  daughter,  and  for  discharging 
Marion. 

"  Well,  Marion,  you  must  not  let  it  break  down  your  spirits. 
There  is  no  remedy  for  you  that  I  see.  Isabella  has  married, 
Mr.  Granville  has  discharged  you  from  his  employ,  and  now  we 
must  put  our  heads  together  and  see  if  we  cannot  do  some  thing 
to  remedy  your  loss  of  a  situation.  What  do  you  say,  Mr. 
Wilson  ?"  asked  his  wife,  as  she  made  these  practical  observa- 
tions to  the  discharged  clerk. 

Mr.  Wilson  replied  that  undoubtedly  a  better  situation  even 
could  be  obtained  for  Marion,  but  that  it  would,  take  time,  that 
he  would  use  his  utmost  exertions  to  get  him  as  good  a  situa- 
tion as  he  had  lost. 

Here  the  servant  came  in  to  say  that  dinner  was  served,  and 
the  parties  went  to  the  table.  Dinner  occupied  a  long  hour, 
and  Mrs.  Wilson  did  all  in  her  power  to  cheer  up  Marion's 
spirits.  She  so  far  succeeded  that  when  Marion  left  the  house, 
towards  evening,  he  promised  to  return  again  soon,  and  walked 
to  his  lodgings  with  a  higher  ambition  to  succeed  in  New  York 
than  he  had  felt  for  a  long  time. 

"  This  trouble  is  only  a  trial  of  my  strength  of  mind,  per- 
haps, and  now  I  can  show  that  I  am  as  capable  of  bearing  ad- 
versity as  prosperity,"  was  his  thought,  and  when  he  reached 
his  lodgings  he  had  reasoned  himself  into  the  belief  that  his 
discharge  and  the  marriage  of  Isabella  were  two  things  that 
had  occurred  for  his  particular  benefit,  instead  of  to  his  injury. 

Marion  continued  to  look  about  him  for  a  situation  for  some 
weeks,  but  without  any  success.  He  was  aided  by  Mr.  Wilson, 


VIGOR.  243 

and  also  by  the  Count  Falsechinski,  but  the  efforts  of  the  three 
amounted  to  nothing.  Marion  seemed  destined  to  remain  idle. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  indulged  freely  in  all  the 
pleasures  to  be  derived  from  visiting  places  of  amusement  in 
New  York.  The  place  in  which  he  lodged  was  frequently 
visited  by  English  actors  and  their  friends,  who  could  there 
order  an  English  beefsteak.  One  of  those  visitors,  whose 
name  was  Adam  Close,  although  an  American,  was  an  intimate 
friend  of  Brough,  the  English  singer,  who  was  then  engaged  at 
the  Park  Theatre  in  connection  with  the  Woods,  singing  in  the 
operas  of  "  La  Sonambula"  and  "  Amelia."  Mr.  Close  w  is 
also  a  friend  of  Mr.  Simpson  and  Mr.  Barry,  and  he  introduced 
Marion  into  the  interior  of  the  old  Park  Theatre.  In  the  green 
room  he  made  many  acquaintances.  Mrs.  Vernon  w^s  then  in 
her  prime.  John  Kemble  Mason,  who  afterwards  married  the 
daughter  of  worthy  old  Cram,  the  distiller,  was  one  of  the  stock 
actors,  and  an  intimacy  sprang  up  between  him  and  Marion 
which  continued  many  years  afterward.  Not  a  night  passed 
that  Marion  did  not  attend  the  Theatre,  both  before  and  behind 
the  curtain,  and  hardly  a  night  passed  that  he  did  not  invite 
some  of  his  new  species  of  acquaintances  to  a  supper  with  him, 
either  at  "  Windust's  "  cellar,  near  the  Theatre,  or  at  Saluin 
&  Suscoinbe's  famous  restaurant,  which  many  of  our  readers 
will  well  remember. 

Not  alone  did  he  limit  his  patronage  to  the  Park  Theatre. 
The  Bowery  was  just  then  in  its  glory,  under  the  regime  of 
the  renowned  Hamblim.  Miss  Waring  was  the  star  of  that 
establishment,  and  the  gorgeous  plays  enacted  at  that  popular 
haunt  were  a  source  of  great  attraction.  Marion  became  well 
acquainted  with  all  the  popular  actors  and  actresses  on  those 
boards,  and  even  with  the  immortal  Hamblin  himself. 

The  Franklin  Theatre  in  Chatham  square  was  then  in  full 
blast,  with  William  Seften  as  the  Golden  Farmer  and  John 
Seften  as  Jemmy  Twitcher.  The  Olympic,  with  Mitchell  as 
manager,  had  just  commenced  its  career  of  success.  A  very 
few  months  of  idleness  made  Marion  well  posted  in  the  theat- 
rical business  of  the  town.  He  had  acquired,  in  addition,  an- 
other habit,  that  seemed  to  grow  with  what  it  fed  on.  Marion 
had  always  been  abstemious  in  his  habits  so  far  as  drinking 
spiritous  liquors  or  wines  was  concerned.  A  few  glasses  of 
wine- at  most,  would,  at  an  earlier  period,  have  completely 
upset  his  equilibrium,  but  after  a  few  months  had  been  spent 
in  giving  suppers  and  drinking  parties,  a  few  bottles  would 
hardly  disturb  his  nerves  ;  and  a  habit  of  drinking  was  grow- 


244  VIGOR. 

ing  upon  him  every  day.  He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  his  old 
associations,  or  his  business  hopes.  But  this  was  not  to  last 
forever.  He  had  not  been  forgotten  by  others,  and  one  morn- 
ing he  was  astonished  by  the  entrance  of  the  Count  False- 
ch'mski. 

"  Come,  Marion,  rouse  up.  I  have  work  for  you  to  do.  A 
new  chapter  in  life  for  you  to  open." 

But  before  we  continue  this  narrative,  we  must  preface  it 
by  a  history  of  the  Count's  personal  operations  during  a  period 
of  some  months.  To  do  this,  we  will  commence  a  new  chapter. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

Thf  Count  Fa.lsechin.ikfs  Fortunes — An  Interview  with  old  Nat  Prime — The 
Russian  Minister,  Mr.  Bodisco — The  Count  a  real  Count — His  Narrative  of 
Family  Affairs  in  Poland  and  Russia— Confides  to  Mr.  Prime  that  fie  lur.i's 
Miss  Grasper — The  old  banker  negotiates  t'ie  matter  with  ol'i  Mr.  Grus/>fr 
succfS.tfully — Astonishment  of  Mr.  Granville  whfn  the  Count  leaves  his  cm- 
ploy — Draws  his  balance  of  salary  and  gives  it  to  Marion  Munck — The  lai- 
trr  hires  a  loom  in  ike  house  where  Mr.  Bennett  lodges — Visits  Colonel  Mac 
Neil  at  46  Centre  street — A  bird's  eye  of  the  characters  found  there. 

WE  must  now  return  to  the  Count  Falsechinski  and  his  suc- 
cess in  real  estate  speculators.  The  Count  had  fairly  gained 
the  entire  confidence  of  the  old  Wall  street  broker,  Nat  Prime. 
He  called  upon  him  frequently,  and  was  always  well  received. 
Some  time  previous  to  the  resu!  t  of  the  real  estate  operation  being 
known  the  Count  asked  to  see  Mr.  Prime  alone.  The  former  had 
in  his  hands  a  bundle  of  papers  and  letters.  When  he  was 
closeted  with  old  Nat,  and  when  they  were  not  likely  to  be 
interrupted,  the  Count  asked,  "  Mr.  Prime,  do  you  believe 
that  I  am  a  Count  ?" 

Mr.  Prime  gave  a  sort  of  laugh,  and  answered  the  question 
by  saying,  "  I  never  troubled  my  head  much  about  the  mat- 
ter, Count,  for  T  did  not  care  whether  you  were  or  not.  It 
made  no  difference  to  me." 

"  For  that  reastm,  my  dear  sir,  and  because  you  have  not 
seemed  to  care,  but  have  treated  me  in  the  most  cordial  man- 
ner as  a  man,  without  knowing  any  thing  of  my  antecedents,  I 
feel  happy  to  be  able  to  show  you  authentic  documents  prov- 
ing who  and  what  1  am.  I  could  not  do  so  until  this  morning, 
when  the  mail  brought  me  a  letter  from  Mr.  Bodisco,  the 
Russian  Minister  at  Washington-.  Will  you  read  this  letter  ?" 
asked  the  Count,  as  he  passed  a  letter  to  the  old  man. 


VIGOR.  245 

Mr.  Prime  received  it  into  his  hands,  looked  it  over  a 
moment,  and  observed,  "Count,  this  is  all  Greek  to  me.  I 
can't  read  Russian,  Polish,  or  whatever  language  this  letter  is 
written  in.  You  must  translate  it  for  me." 

•'  I  forgot,  Mr.  Prime.  The  letter  from  Mr.  Bodisco  is 
written  in  the  French  language.  I  will  translate  it  for  you." 

"  Do  so,  and  it  will  answer  all  necessary  purposes,"  was  the 
reply  of  Mr.  Prime. 

The  Count  continued  :  "  Before  I  do  this,  Mr.  Prime,  I  must 
mention  some  facts  connected  with  my  family  interest.  I  am  a 
younger  brother  of  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  poor  Poland. 
My  brother  Stanislaus  took  an  active  part  in  a  rising  against 
Russia  some  years  ago.  He  was  seized,  and  exiled  to  Siberia. 
I  was  a  mere  lad  at  the  time,  and  perhaps  might  have  shared 
his  fate,  had  not  a  friend  of  my  father  at  some  risk  to  himself 
protected  and  educated  me.  I  was  forgotten  until  I  had  grown 
to  be  a  young  man,  when  accident  revealed  to  the  authorities 
at  Warsaw  who  I  really  was.  I  barely  escaped  with  my  life, 
and  reached  England  safely.  I  sobn  after  came  to  this  country, 
and  .then  I  swore  a  solemn  oath  that  I  would  not  eat,  drink,  or 
do  any  thing  that  involved  expense,  except  to  barely  keep  life 
in  my  body  until  I  acquired  sufficient  funds  to  pay  whatever 
fines  the  Russian  government  might  inflict  upon  me,  in  order 
that  I  might  then  be  restored  to  my  position  in  society,  and  be 
enabled  to  return  to  my  own  country  without  danger  to  my  life 
or  to  my  liberty.  My  brother  had  no  children  ;  but  as  there 
was  no  pardon  for  him,  no  hope  of  clemency  from  the  emperor 
in  his  behalf,  it  perhaps  was  lucky  for  me  that  his  death,  which 
became  known  at  St.  Petersburg  about  eighteen  months  ago, 
placed  me  at  the  head  of  my  family,  and  enabled  me  to  treat 
for  restoration  to  my  own  rights.  A  powerful  friend  of  mine 
in  the  Russian  capital  went  to  work  faithfully  for  my  interest. 
Letters  upon  letters  have  passed.  I  have  given  the  most 
solemn  assurance  to  the  Russian  government  of  my  devotion. 
The  result  of  all  this  is  that  I  am  fully  restored  to  my  true 
rank,  or  the  rank  that  my  brother  held  before  his  unfortunate 
patriotic  failure,  and  without  any  conditions  except  the  pay- 
ment of  a  fine  which  amounts  to  about  twenty-two  thousand 
dollars  of  your  money,  which  has  been  imposed  upon  me.  The 
matter  is  now  in  the  hands  of  the  Russian  Minister  at  Wash- 
ington. I  have  to  arrange  the  financial  part  with  him,  and  he 
will  send  the  same  to  the  European  Government.  In  less  than 
a  year  all  obstacles  will  be  removed.  I  shall  be  once  more 
upon  a  good  footing  with  the  Government — the  head  of  my  own. 


246  VIGOR. 

family,  and  be  the  manager  of  the  family  estate  in  Poland  of 
the  Falsechinski's  This  is  the  purport  of  tire  Ambassador's 
letter,  dated  at,  Washington." 

"  What  is  the  income  of  the  estates  of  your  family,  Count?" 
asked  the  banker.  •£ 

The  Count  replied,  "  Before  they  were  confiscated  and  my 
brother  exiled,  the  revenue  was  almost  princely — I  believe  as 
high  as  twenty-five  thousand  pounds  sterling.  But  I  have  no 
idea  that  they  can  now  be  anything  like  that  amount,  even  under 
the  most  favorable  circumstances.  Be  these  revenues  small 
or  great,  is  not  the  question.  I  want  to  be  a  man  once  more 
in  the  land  of  my  birth,  instead  of  a  wanderer  ;  I  wish  to  hold 
my  true  rank  and  position,  even  if  the  revenue  were  not  one 
cent,"  said  the  Count. 

"  Right,  perfectly  righl^  Count ;  you  are  a  man,  every  inch 
of  you,  and  I  am  glad  you  have  told  me  this.  What  can  I  do 
to  aid  you  ?"  asked  Mr.  Prime. 

"  You  can  draw  a  check  to  the  order  of  M.  Bodisco,  and  I 
will  remit  it  to  him.  Thiij  check  will  be  returned  to  you 
after  it  has  been  paid  at  the  bank,  will  it  not  ?"  asked  the 
Count. 

"  Aha  !  my  Count.  I  see  what  you  are  driving  at.  It  will 
be  evidence  that  you  have  paid  the  money,  in  case  the  Russian 
Minister  proves  tricky,  eh  V  said  Mr.  Prime. 

"  He  may  not  acknowledge  receipt  of  the  money,  and  as  you 
say,  Mr.  Prime,  the  check  with  his  endorsement  would  be 
pretty  conclusive  evidence  that  he  had  got  it,  but  I  hope  there 
will  never  be  any  necessity  to  use  it  against  him,"  was  the 
remark  of  the  Count. 

"  There  is  nothing  like  being  oh  the  safe  side  with  those 
diplomatic  chaps.  They  are  an  uncertain  set.  More  so  than 
common  counts  and  humbugs.  Excuse  me,  Count ;  I  did  not 
mean  you.  But  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Count,  I  have  always 
regarded  you  as  a  sharp,  shrewd,  intelligent  man.  I  always 
liked  you,  but  until  this  morning  I  fancied  that  so  far  as  your 
Countship  was  concerned,  that  it  was  all  humbug.  But  J  did 
not  like  you  the  worse  for  it,  and  I  can't  say  that  I  shall  like 
you  any  better  for  knowing  that  you  are  a  real,  instead  of  a 
sham  Count,"  said  Mr.  Prime. 

The  Count  bowed,  but  did  not  make  a  reply.  He  knew  that 
he  had  raised  himself  full  one  hundred  per  cent,  in  the  banker's 
estimation  by  what  he  had  stated,  for  the  old  gentleman  was  a 
real  admirer  of  aristocracy,  let  it  belong  to  what  country  it 
might.  The  Count  had  not  done  yet. 


VIGOR.  247 

"  Mr.  Prime,"  he  asked,  "  how  does  my  account  stand  with 
you  since  the  sale  of  the  real  estate  ?" 

The  banker  made  no  reply,  but  rose  and  walked  to  the  door. 
He  opened  it  and  called  "  Mr.  Christmas,"  and  then  reseated 
himself.  A  moment  elapsed,  and  the  employee  answeting  to 
the  name  of  Christmas  made  his  appearance. 

"  What  balance  has  the  Count  in  our  hands  in  cash,  and 
what  securities  also  ?"  asked  the  banker. 

"  Shall  I  make  out  his  account  with  the  interest  added  to 
his  credit  ?"  asked  the  bookkeeper. 

"  No,  no.  Simply  the  balance,  without  interest.  That  can 
be  made  up  at  any  time,  and,  by  the  way,  draw  a  check  for 
twenty-two  thousand  dollars  to  the  order  of  Mr.  Bodisco,  the 
Russian  Minister  at  Washington,"  ordered  the  banker. 

"  Make  it  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,"  remarked  the  Count, 
and  turning  to  Mr.  Prime,  he  added,  "  It  is  better  to  make  it 
somewhat  larger  than  the  exact  amount.  It  will  do  no  harm. 
Although  a  minister  cannot  be  bribed,  yet  it  don't  do  any 
harm  to  have  two  or  three  thousand  dollars  in  his  hands.  He 
may  have  expenses  to  incur,  eh,  Mr.  Prime  ?"  quietly  observed 
the  Count. 

Both  laughed  heartily,  and  the  expression  of  their  faces 
would  seem  to  imply  that  they  had  no  idea  that  the  Russian 
Minister  would  ever  return  any  change  on  the  twenty-five 
thousand  dollar  check.  Presently  the  bookkeeper  returned 
and  stated,  "  The  Count  has  a  cash  balance  to  his  cre'dit  on  our 
books  of  one  hundred  and  six  thousand  dollars  ;  less  this  check 
of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  it  is  eighty-one  thousand  dol- 
lars. We  also  hold  bond  a  mortgage  for  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars,. bearing  interest  at  seven  per  cent.,  pay- 
able semi-annually." 

"  Thank  you.  That  is  all,  Mr.  Christmas,"  said  Mr.  Prime, 
and  the  bookkeeper  returned,  and  the  old  banker  turned  to  the 
Count.  "  Pretty  snug,  that,  Count.  Eighty-one  thousand  at 
four  per  cent,  is  three  thousand  two  hundred  and  forty  dollars, 
and  sevlfn  per  cent,  on  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars, 
is  ten  thousand  five  hundred  dollars.  Total,  thirteen  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  forty  dollars.  Nearly  fourteen  thousand 
per  annum,  Count,  is  a  nice  little  income  for  any  single  man, 
and  can  be  increased  still  more.  Count,  when  you  go  back  tc 
Europe,  I  suppose  you  will  be  marrying  some  of  those  blooded 
dames,  eh  ?" 

"  Really,  Mr.  Prime,  I  cannot  say  ;  but  you  will  laugh  at 
me  if  I  confide  a  little  secret  to  you,"  replied  the  Count. 


248  VIGOR. 

•'  Not  a  bit — not  a  bit  of  it.  Tell  me  your  secret.  Some 
love  scrape,  eh  ?  Some  pretty  girl  in  your  eye,  eh  ?"  and  the 
old  banker  rubbed  his  hands  with  delight. 

The  Count  saw  his  advantage  at  once,  and  he  had  a  plan 
fully  matured  in  his  own  mind.  He  needed  the  assistance  of 
Mr.  Prime  to  carry  it  out  to  a  successful  conclusion. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Prime,  you  have  guessed  my  secret.  I  am  in  love 
with  a  beautiful  young  lady,  but  I  have  no  hopes.  She  is  not 
within  my  reach,"  said  the  Count,  in  a  very  humble  tone. 

"  Not  within  your  reach  1  How  the  d — 1  is  that  ?  You 
have  a  capital  of  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars, that  I  know.  You  are  a  Count.  You  are  very  good  look- 
ing. You  are  intelligent,  and  how  is  she  not  within  your 
reach  ?  Perhaps  the  lady  is  already  married,"  said  the  banker.  * 

"  Oh,  no,  sir.  She  is  single,  and  her  father  is  a  particular 
friend  of  yours,"  replied  the  Count. 

"  Indeed.  Who  is  she  ?  Tell  me  her  father's  name.  Per- 
haps I  can  give  you  a  helping  hand  in  the  matter,  eh  ?  Do 
you  know  her  well  ?  How  long  have  you  been  acquainted  with 
her  ?"  hurriedly  asked  the  banker,  who  was  now  fully  inter- 
ested in  the  affair. 

"  I  am  not  even  acquainted  with  the  lady  to  speak  to  her.  I 
have  met  her  on  one  occasion,  but  she  was  so  far  above  me 
that  I  did  not  dream  of  ever  being  able  to  aspire  to  her  hand. 
With  your  aid,  Mr.  Prime,  the  case  is  different.  Her  name  is 
Irene  Grasper,  and  she  is  the  daughter  of  your  friend  Mr. 
Grasper.  There,  the  secret  is  out,  and  I  hope  safe  in  your 
.keeping,"  said  the  Count. 

"  Safe,  my  dear  boy,  as  a  rat  in  a  trap.  Above  you,  man 
alivo  !  No  such  thing.  She  shall  be  yours.  I  will  make  it 
my  business  to  see  her  father.  You  are  no  humbug.  You 
have  got  the  tin,  the  solid  rocks,  and  he  must  pint,  too,  if  you 
marry  his  daughter,"  said  the  banker. 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  do  not  mean  to  marry  for  money.  Never 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing,"  and  the  Count  could  hardly  keep 
his  countenance,  for  it  was  the  money  that  the  Count  had  in 
view.  He  had  a  list  of  all  the  young  ladies  of  property  in 
New  York.  He  had  corrected  and  altered  it  for  three  years 
according  to  circumstances.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  lo 
marry  a  fortune,  and  to  go  through  with  the  entire  list,  one  by 
oue,  until  he  married  the  richest  that  he  could  get  out  of  the 
lot.  Miss  Grasper  was  A  No.  1  on  the  list.  The  old  man 
was  reputed  to  be  worth  a  million,  and  this  was  an  only  daugh- 
ter. To  tho  Count's  reply  that  he  never  dreamed  of  such  a 


VIGOR.  249 

thing  as  marrying  for  money,  the  old  banker  remarked  that  he 
was  a  fool  if  he  did  not. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Count — that  is  all  very  fine  on 
your  part,  but  you  have  consulted  me  in  this  matter,  and  I  am 
your  banker.  I  will  not  permit  you  to  be  imposed  on.  You 
have,  as  I  said  before,  a  title  and  the  hard  stuff.  If  you  marry 
my  old  friend's  daughter,  he  shall  come  down  handsomely.  lie 
shall  put  up  the  solid.  I  think  he  ought  to  give  his  daughter 
as  much  as  you  can  show.  Leave  that  all  to  me.  Do  you 
secure  the  girl,  I  will  arrange  the  matter  with  my  old  crony. 
You  have  got  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars 
that  I  can  vouch  for,  Count.  Suppose  old  John  don't  or  won't 
agree  to  plank  down  for  his  daughter  that  sum.  What  shall  I 
do  then  ?"  asked  Mr.  Prime. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Prime,  but  the  idea  of  mixing  up  money 
matters  in  an  affair  of  the  heart  really  shocks  me,  but  if  you 
insist  upon  my  saying  some  thing,  I  will  only  say  I  leave  it 
entirely  in  your  hands.  I  think  if  he  gives  any  thing  to  his 
daughter,  he  ought  to  secure  her  one  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars  in  your  hands  the  moment  she  is  married  to  me. 
You  arrange  it  for  her  secretly.  I  don't  want  the  money — 
don't  need  it,"  said  the  Count. 

"  Say  no  more,  Count  He  shall  do  it.  You  are  as  liberal 
as  a  prince,  and  I  will  see  tliat  you  are  not  imposed  upon,  and 
now  I  am  going  to  bid  you  good-morning,  Count,  come  down 
to  No.  1  Broadway  to-morrow  and  dine  with  me.  I  don't  say, 
but  I  think  you  will  find  some  body  there  that  you  will  be 
pleased  to  see/'  said  the  banker. 

The  Count  Falsechinski  took  his  hat,  and  left  the  banker's 
office,  after  having  politely  accepted  the  invitation  to  dine. 
When  he  was  clear  of  the  premises,  he  walked  down  to  Del- 
monico's  and  ordered  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  cigar,  and  while 
sipping  the  one  and  puffing  the  other,  his  reflections  were  of  a 
very  pleasant  character.  Occasionally  he  rubbed  his  hands 
and  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  counted  up  the  success  of  his 
plans.  "  The  remittance  to  the  Minister  will  place  my  affair 
right  in  Russia.  So  much  for  that  business.  1  will  make  love 
to  Miss  Grasper.  Her  papa,  under  Mr.  Prime's  tuition,  will 
settle  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  or  about  ten 
thousand  dollars  a  year  on  her.  My  own  income  will  make  it 
up  to  twenty -five  thousand  dollars.  With  that  and  my  affair 
all  arranged,  I  will  return  to  Poland,  and  there  I  will  live  like 
a  prince,  I  will  be  somebody.  The  income  of  my  own  heredi- 
tary property — bah  !  I  am  afraid  that  my  titles  would  be  a 

11* 


250  VIGOR. 

poor  concern,  if  they  depended  upon  the  income  of  my  Polish 
property,  without  other  sources  of  income.  But  now  I  must 
finish  up  my  career  mercantile  at  once — bring  it  to  an  end  to- 
day. It  may  excite  wonder  in  old  European  minds  why  I  am 
a  clerk  ;  and  until  my  object  is  achieved  in  that  quarter,  I  will 
end  it ''  These  were  the  unspoken  thoughts  of  the  worthy 
Count.  When  he  had  finished  his  coffee  and  cigar,  he  went 
around  to  the  office  of  Granville  &  Wilson,  in  Broad  street. 
The  two  partners  were  conversing  together  when  the  Count 
approached  them. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  I  have  to  thank  you  for  all  your 
kindness  to  me  while  in  your  employ  :  and  I  am  grieved  to  say 
thai  I  must  leave  your  employment  to-day." 

Both  partners  stood  in  amazement.     The  Count  continued  : 

"  I  am  restored  to  my  rauk  and  position  in  Poland  by  the 
act  of  His  Imperial  Majesty,  who  imposes  upon  me  a  small 
fine  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  which  1  have  just  received 
from  my  bankers,  Prime,  Ward  &  King,  and  which  I  must  to- 
day send  to  the  Russian  Ambassador  at  Washington." 

Here  the  Count  carelessly  displayed  the  check,  and  Mr. 
Granville  took  it  into  his  hands  ;  and  after  gazing  at  it  in  stu- 
pid silence,  passed  it  over  to  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  I  have  in  my  banker's  hands,  in  cash  and  good  securities, 
about  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars — so  you  see  that 
I  can  get  along  very  well.  I  would  remain  with  you  longer, 
but  I  must  make  my  preparations  to  go  to  Russia  and  take  my 
place — my  real  position — and  manage  my  estates,  which  have 
been  very  long  neglected.  Will  you  give  me  a  check  for  what 
may  be  due  me — it  is  not  much,"  added  the  Count. 

The  conversation  of  the  Count  was  like  the  shock  of  an  elec- 
tric battery.  Mr.  Granville  was  astonished  ; — Mr.  Wilson  was 
less  so,  and  coolly  made  up  the  account  of  the  Count,  and 
drew  a  check  for  three  hundred  and  twenty  dollars. 

"  That  is  the  amount  due  you,  Count,"  remarked  Mr.  Wil- 
son ;  "  will  you  sign  a  receipt  fur  it  ?" 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Granville  recovered  his  speech,  and  listened 
to  further  explanations  about  the  Count's  affairs.  When  the 
receipt  was  signed,  the  Count  again  thanked  the  two  partners, 
and  took  his  departure.  They  looked  at  each  other  for  some 
time  in  silence. 

"  That  is  a  rum  chicken,  that  Count,  but  I  can  hardly  believe 
that  he  is  humbugging  us.  That  check  at  least  was  genuine. 
Two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  Prime  &  Co.'s 


VIGOR.  251 

hands !     Impossible  !     Good  God,  if  I  had  but  known  that !" 
exclaimed  Mr.  Granville. 

Mr.  Wilson  did  not  seem  at  all  surprised,  and  when  Mr 
Granville  observed  that  he  meant  to  see  one  of  the  firm  that 
day,  and  ask  if  what  the  Count  had  stated  was  true,  Mr.  Wil- 
son remarked  that  it  was  useless — that  he  knew  he  had  money 
there.  This  did  not  discourage  Mr.  Granville,  for  ere  two 
hours  had  passed,  he  had  ascertained  from  Mr.  King  that  the 
Count  Falsechinski  had  kept  an  account  there  for  years,  and 
that  he  had  over  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  their  hands  ; 
and  Mr.  King  added,  that  if  Mr.  Granville  thought  of  having 
any  financial  transactions  with  the  Count,  he  would  find  him 
perfectly  safe  to  an  unlimited  amount. 

Mr.  Granville  returned  to  his  own  office  mortified  to  a  degree 
that  he  could  hardly  have  believed.  "  I  did  not  believe,  Wil- 
son, that  the  man  had  five  hundred  cents  ;"  and  then  he  mut- 
tered something  about  locking  the  stable  door  after  the  horse 
was  stolen,  implying  that  he  had  had  it  in  his  power  to  have 
made  a  warm  friend  of  the  Count,  but  had  neglected  to  do  so, 
nntil  the  time  had  arrived  when  the  Count  was  in  such  a  plea- 
sant position  that  he  needed  no  friends.  "  What  a  most  con- 
summate ass  I  have  been,"  was  the  only  consolation  that  Mr. 
Granville  could  find  for  what  he  deemed  the  most  stupid  stu- 
pidity. It  was  too  late,  however,  to  mend  matters  fully,  but 
Mr.  Granville  resolved  to  do  the  best  that  he  could  under  the 
circumstances,  which  was  to  be  extremely  civil  to  the  Count, 
and  trust  to  chance  for  the  result. 

The  Count,  when  he  left  the  office  of  Mr.  Granville,  pro- 
ceeded directly  to  Clark  &  Brown's,  in  Maiden  Lane.  As  we 
have  related,  there  he  found  Marion,  somewhat  depressed  in 
spirits,  and  he  addressed  him  in  a  cheerful  manner. 

"  Cheer  up,  my  boy,  and  open  a  new  chapter.  Have  you  a 
pen  and  ink  handy  ?" 

Marion  procured  him  one  from  a  little  desk  in  one  corner  of 
the  room.  The  Count  seated  himself  at  the  table,  and  took  out 
the  check  for  three  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  that  he  had 
received  from  Granville  &  Wilson.  He  indorsed  it,  for  it  was 
drawn  to  order,  and  passed  it  over  to  Marion,  saying  pleasantly, 

"  Will  you  go  and  get  that  money,  Marion  1" 

"  Certainly.  Shall  I  bring  it  back  to  you  ?  Will  you 
wait  1"  replied  Marion. 

"  No — 1  have  not  time,"  said  the  Count. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  the  money,  then  ?" 

"  Put  it  in  your  pocket,  my  dear  boy,  for  it  is  yours.    Don't 


252  VIGOR. 

bother  me.  Spend  it,  and  when  you  want  more,  let  me  know. 
I  have  got  work  for  you  to  do,  but  not  quite  yet.  You  must 
get  out  of  this  hole.  I  don't  like  it.  Can't  you  find  no  other 
place  to  live  in  except  this  ]"  asked  the  Count. 

Marion  replied  that  he  could  and  would  that  day.  "  Count, 
you  do  not  know  how  you  have  relieved  iny  mind.  I  have  no 
money  left.  I  could  not  have  paid  the  very  trifling  amount  E 
owe  here,  but  for  your  kindness.  How  shall  I  repay  it  ?" 
asked  Marion,  feelingly. 

"  It  has  already  been  paid  to  me  in  advance,  Marion,  by 
you.  Now  I  will  repay  you  some  part  of  the  large  debt  which 
I  owe  you.  I  am  not  quite  ready  yet.  When  you  have  se- 
lected a  new  place,  write  me  a  line  to  that  effect,  and  leave  it 
at  Prime,  Ward  &  King's.  I  have  left  Granville  &  Co.  That 
check  was  for  a  balance  due  me,  and  closed  my  account  there 
forever.  God  bless  you,  my  boy — take  care  of  yourself !  You 
will  be  all  right  before  long  ;"  and  with  these  hopeful  words, 
the  Count  left 

"  I  have  one  friend  left,  and  I  will  do  at  once  what  he  re- 
commends— but  first  to  draw  the  money,"  said  Marion  to  him- 
self. He  went  at  once,  and  received  the  money  for  the  check. 
Then  it  occurred  to  him,  that  when  long  previous  he  had  called 
upon  Mr.  Bennett  at  his  room  in  Nassau  street,  he  had  noticed 
a  bill  upon  the  house,  with  "  Rooms  to  let."  He  hurried  up 
there.  First,  he  inquired  for  Mr.  Bennett.  He  was  still  re- 
siding in  the  house,  but  was  at  his  office.  Then  he  engaged 
the  back  room  on  the  same  floor,  and  paid  a  month's  board  in 
advance.  This  done,  he  proceeded  to  Clark  &  Brown's,  paid 
his  bill,  got  a  cartman,  and  took  his  baggage  to  his  new  quar- 
ters. The  next  step  was  to  write  a  note  to  the  Count,  inform- 
ing him  of  his  new  location,  and  this  he  took  to  Prime  &  Co.'s 
oih'ce,  and  left  it. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  before  Marion  had  concluded  his 
•work.  He  went  at  once  to  No.  46  Centre  street.  There  ho 
found  Colonel  Mac  Neil,  with  whom  he  had  retained  an  inti- 
macy during  all  this  period.  Mac  Neil  had  been  a  true  friend; 
and  the  young  clerk  had  the  good  sense  to  respect  him  more  in 
his  fallen  fortunes,  than  when  he  knew  him  prosperous  and 
successful.  A  man  of  the  world  like  Colonel  Mac  Neil  had  it 
in  his  power  to  give  many  instructive  examples  to  a  youth  like 
Marion,  and  he  had  noU  failed  to  do  so  upon  every  occasion.  At 
this  visit,  however,  Marion  seemed  possessed  of  the  attributes 
of  manhood.  He  shook  hands  with  the  Colonel.  There  were 
many  in  that  room,  for  it  was  the  holiday  season,  and  Marion 


VIGOR.  253 

asked  all  hands  up  to  drink,  and  then  he  sat  down  by  Mac 
Neil 

"  Colonel,  this  is  a  funny  world,  is  it  not  ?  Queer  changes 
occur  ;"  he  remarked. 

"  Just  found  it  out?"  abruptly  asked  the  Colonel. 

"  This  morning  I  was  dead  broke — not  a  red.  Owed  Clark 
&  Brown  nineteen  dollars.  Look  here  ;"  and  Marion,  as  he 
spoke,  exhibited  a  roll  of  money. 

"  Put  that  up  at  once,"  said  Mac  Neil,  sternly.  "  You  do 
not  know  who  may  notice  it.  Never  show  money — no  gentle- 
man does  so.  Besides,  in  such  a  place  as  this  it  is  dangerous. 
It  might  cost  you  the  loss  of  the  money  and  a  broken  skull. 
There  are  men  in  this  room  at  this  moment  who  would  not  hes- 
itate to  give  you  a  clip  over  the  head  for  the  sake  of  a  five  dol- 
lar gold  piece  ;  but  tell  me  all  about  this  sudden  change  of 
fortune." 

Marion  related  all  to  him.  He  only  replied,  "  That  Count 
is  a  deep  one.  I  never  could  make  him  out  satisfactorily  to 
myself.  I  ever  believed  him  to  be  a  sharper  and  a  sham.  I 
may  be  mistaken.  That  three  hundred  and  twenty  dollar  check 
would  lead  me  to  a  diiferent  conclusion." 

"  Colonel,  will  you  not  be. angry  with  me  if  I  presume  to  do 
something  ?"  asked  Marion,  in  a  very  apologetic  voice. 

"  I  am  not  apt  to  get  angry  with  you,  my  boy,"  replied  Col- 
onel Mac  Neil. 

"  I  want  you  to  take  fifty  dollars  of  this  money.  I  counted 
it  out  before  I  came  in  here,  and  I  have  placed  it  in  my  side 
pocket — here  it  is  ;"  and  as  he  spoke  he  poured  the  money  into 
the  hands  of  the  Colonel.  The  tears  started  in  the  old  man  of 
the  world's  eyes  as  he  received  the  money. 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  with  it  ?''  he  asked. 

"  Keep  it,  to  be  sure.  I  thought  it  might  serve  you,  and  I 
might  throw  it  away.  If  I  should  need  it,  1  will  come  to  you," 
observed  Marion,  delicately. 

"  Upon  such  conditions  then  I  accept  it.  Wait  a  moment." 
The  Colonel  passed  to  the  bar,  and  spoke  a  few  words  to  Hen- 
ry, the  proprietor,  and  handed  him  the  money.  Then  he  re- 
turned to  the  side  of  Marion.  The  latter  remarked, 

"  Colonel,  you  seem  to  know  this  crowd,  or  they  all  know 
you.  Who  are  they  ?" 

"  I  will  ask  them  all  up  to  take  another  drink,  and  then  I 
will  tell  you,"  replied  the  Colonel. 

This  was  accordingly  done,  and  the  Colonel  continued  : 

"  Notice  that  stout  man  who  is  seated  upon  a  barrel,  talking 


254  VIGOR. 

so  loudly.  That  is  fighting  Charley — one  of  the  worst  men  in 
the  Sixth  Ward.  He  has  been  engaged  in  several  prize  fights. 
The  one  talking  to  him  is  Parson  Charley.  He  is  so  nicknamed 
because  his  brother  is  one  of  the  most  famous  assistant  rectors 
of  Trinity  Church  in  this  city.  That  red-faced  seedy-looking 
young  man  is  Theodore  Van  Ness — one  of  the  richest  young 
men  at  twenty-one  years  old  in  Dutchess  county.  He  is  now 
a  beggar.  That  crazy,  wild-looking  genius,  who  has  a  torn 
blue  coat  with  brass  buttons,  was  in  the  Tombs  all  last  night. 
His  father  once  commanded  a  ship  out  of  this  port.  She  was 
chartered  to  take  out  provisions  to  the  Greek  patriots  in  1828. 
His  uncle  owns  the  Waverley  House  down  Broadway,  and  is 
one  of  the  richest  men  in  town.  He  has  a  firm  called  Fitch 
Brothers  &  Co.  in  Marseilles,  France.  The  uncle's  name,  is 
Asa  Fitch." 

"  Who  is  the  venerable  old  man  with  gray  hair  who  is  talk- 
ing to  him,  Colonel  ?"  asked  Marion. 

"  That  is  Pop  Junk.  He  keeps  a  junk  shop  down  near  the 
Five  Points.  He  has  been  in  the  State  Prison  for  ten  years, 
but  is  now  rich.  Curious  characters  come  here,"  continued 
Mac  Neil,  "  but  they  are  hardly  worth  knowing,  except  to  one 
who  is  old  and  experienced  enough  not  to  be  injured  by  com- 
ing in  contact  with  such  people." 

Marion  remained  with  the  Colonel  until  evening,  and  then 
bade  him  good  night  and  went  to  his  new  boarding-house. 


CHAPTER  XL1II. 

Old  Mr.  Prime  and  Mr.  Gra<per — The  Count  to  marry  Irene.   G 'rasper  —The 
Dinner  at  Air.  Prime's — Satisfaction  all  around. 

No  sooner  had  the  Count  Falsechinki  left  the  banking  house 
of  Prime,  Ward  &  King,  than  the  senior  partner  of  that  great 
firm  took  his  hat,  and  soon  after  could  have  been  found  in  the 
directors'  room  of  one  of  the  principal  city  banks.  He  was 
one  of  the  directors  of  the  institution,  and  Mr.  John  Grasper 
•was  another.  Soon  after  the  latter  arrived,  and  the  two  old 
millionaires  were  engaged  in  a  very  earnest  conversation.  Now 
and  then  a  sudden  but  very  emphatic  exclamation  could  have 
been  heard  from  Grasper. 

"  What !  a  real  Count  ?  None  of  those  impostors  ! — are  you 
sure  of  it  1" 


VIGOR.  255 

Then  Mr.  Prime's  low  tones  assured  his  friend  that  of  this 
there  was  not  a  shadow  of  a  doubt.  Again  Grasper  would 
open  his  lips — 

"  lucoine  of  his  estate  twenty-five  thousand  pounds  sterling 
— impossible  !" 

But  when  he  was  again  assured  that  whatever  might  be  the 
income  of  the  Count's  estates  in  Poland,  there  was  no  mistake 
in  the  fact  that  the  firm  held  cash  and  securities  to  the  extent 
of  a  quarter  of  million  of  dollars,  his  astonishment  seemed  to 
have  reached  a  climax,  for  he  was  perfectly  silent.  There  was 
no  occasion  for  expressing  incredulity  in  a  financial  matter, 
when  Mr.  Nafc  Prime  stood  ready  to  guarantee  it. 

It  was  some  moments  before  the  parties  opened  their  mouths 
again,  when  the  celebrated  banker  continued  the  conversa- 
tion— 

"  Yes,  Grasper,  my  old  friend,  the  best  you  can  do.  You 
say  jour  daughter  has  no  previous  attachment." 

"  None  that  I  know  of.  In  fact  I  am  quite  sure  not,  and  I 
have  no  particular  objection  that  it  shall  be  a  match  if  all  that 
you  say  of  this  Count  proves  true,"  said  Grasper,  in  a  very 
quiet  manner. 

"  If !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Prime  with  some  spirit — "  do  you 
doubt  my  word,  old  friend  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,  but  it  is  a  large  sum,  a  very  large  sum. 
A  quarter  of  a  million  !  And  suppose  these  two  young  people 
bhould  become  attached,  what  would  I  be  expected  to  do  ? — 
that  is,  what  sum  would  I  have  to  settle  on  my  daughter  ?" 
asked  his  companion. 

"  Now  you  begin  to  talk  up  to  the  mark  ;  why,  I  suppose 
the  advantage  of  noble  blood  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you 
ought  to  put  down  as  much  cash  on  the  nail  as  your  Juturo 
son-in-law  can  show,  eh  ?"  said  the  banker. 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  but  I  will  do  this  ;  if  you 
will  satisfy  me  that  this  Count  has  all  you  say,  is  all  you  say, 
I  will  put  down  as  the  portion  of  my  daughter  one  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  when  the  parties  are  married,"  said 
the  other. 

"  Do  I  understand  you  to  mean  that  you  will  give  it  to  her, 
out  and  out  ?"  demanded  the  banker. 

"  Not  exactly.  I  will  place  that  sum  in  the  hands  of  your 
house  to  be  invested  in  a  manner  most  satisfactory  to  the 
Count.  The  property  or  the  income  to  be  used  by  the  married 
couple,  and  to  go  to  any  children  that  my  daughter  may  have 
by  the  Count,"  said  Mr.  Grasper 


256  VIGOR. 

"  No,  no,  that  won't  do.  It  is  not  fair  for  the  Count ;  give 
it  out  and  out  to  your  daughter  when  she  marries  him  :  I  will 
see  that  it  is  properly  invested.  Don't  tie  them  up.  If  the 
Count  Mere,  a  beggar  it  would  be  different,  but  he  is  not.  He 
is  amply  provided  for,  worth  all  or  more  than  I  tell  you,  and 
the  amount  that  you  give  to  your  daughter  under  the  existing 
circumstances  should  not  be  encumbered  with  conditions.  You 
are  not  going  to  live  forever,  and  you  will  have  a  nice  sum  to 
leave  somebody  when  you  die.  Use  your  judgment  when  you 
coine  to  making  your  will.  Then  you  can  settle  upon  your 
daughter  what  you  thiuk  fit,"  shrewdly  observed  the  banker. 

"  Right,  old  friend.  I  am  satisfied  that  your  advice  is 
good.  Now  when  shall  I  see  my  future  son-in-law  ?"  asked 
the  old  man. 

"  I  will  have  him  on  the  course  to-morrow,  and  you  can  trot 
out  your  filly  at  the  same  time — that  is  to  say,  come  and  dine 
with  me  to-morrow,  and  bring  Irene  with  you  ;  I  will  have 
the  Count  there,"  was  the  answer. 

"  I  will  come  ;  and  now  let  us  shake  hands  upon  our  agree- 
ment;  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  proposing  it,''  observed 
Air  Grasper. 

"  Wait  a  while  until  you  see  how  the  new  team  work  in  har- 
ness. Then  thank  me  if  you  are  satisfied  with  the  match." 

The  two  worthies  parted  mutually  satisfied.  Mr.  Prime 
sometimes  talked  "  stable."  Some  people  made  the  assertion 
that  before  he  entered  into  the  brokerage  and  banking  busi- 
ness, that  he  had  been  hostler  to  old  Billy  Grey,  a  quiet  mer- 
chant in  Boston  ;  whether  true  or  not  is  no  affair  of  ours.  He 
did  frequently  use  language  that  smacked  of  the  stable  ;  and 
upon  one  occasion,  when  a  friend  asked  kindly  after  one  of  his 
own  family  who  had  been  sick,  Mr.  Prime  replied,  "  She  is 
better,  thank  you,  but  she  has  not  come  to  her  feed  yet."  Mr. 
Prime  also  prided  himself  upon  his  knowledge  of  horse-flesh, 
but  he  did  .not  boast  of  it  much  after  a  terrific  sell  was  perpe- 
trated upon  him.  He  was  shown  a  white  horse,  beautifully 
variegated  with  coal-black  spots,  and  his  owner  called  him  the 
"  leopard  horse."  He  sold  him  to  the  old  gentleman  at  an 
enormous  price — some  say  two  thousand  dollars.  After  a 
while  Mr.  Prime  began  to  believe  that  the  Bible,  when  it 
asked  if  the  leopard  could  change  his  spots,  implying  that  he 
could  not  do  it,  was  sadly  mistaken — for  his  leopard  horse  did 
change  his  spots,  or  rather  all  the  beautiful  spots  washed  off, 
and  the  horse  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  plain  white 
une.  But  the  banker  was  a  good  old  soul  after  all,  and  did 


VIGOR.  257 

many  a  kind  act  equal  in  benevolence    to   his  friendship  for 
the  Count. 

The  succeeding  day  the  Count  Falsechinski  met  at  the  din- 
ner table  of  the  old  banker,  Mr.  Grasper  and  his  daughter.  The 
fair  Irene  was  even  more  stately  beautiful  than  when  we  des- 
cribed her  appearance  at  a  party  given  by  Mrs.  Nordheim. — 
She  was  accomplished  in  almost  every  variety  of  the  so-called 
female  accomplishments.  She  spoke  Italian  and  French  equal- 
ly well,  and  much  to  the  delight  of  her  parent,  she  maintained 
a  long  and  animated  conversation  with  the  Count  in  both  of 
these  languages.  After  dinner  was  finished,  while  the  two  old 
fogies  remained  at  their  wine,  the  Count  excused  himself  and 
joined  Miss  Irene  at  the  piano.  There  -was  a  guitar  by  the 
side  of  the  piano,  which  the  Count  took  in  charge,  .and  played 
with  exquisite  taste  and  feeling,  while  he  sang  several  charm- 
ing odes.  The}7  were  much  pleased  with  each  other,  and  the 
old  people  noticed  this  fact  with  great  pleasure. 

When  Mr.  Grasper  and  his  daughter  got  ready  to  leave,  the 
Count  asked  permission  to  accompany  them,  and  it  was  readily 
granted,  and  on  the  arrival  of  the  party  at  the  father's  splen- 
did residence,  the  Count  received  an  invitation  to  enter,  and 
spend  the  remainder  of  the  evening.  The  Count  wondered 
whether  his  intentions  were  known  to  the  fair  damsel.  Mr. 
Prime  had  taken  him  aside  at  \\\s  residence  and  informed  him 
that  he  had  come  to  an  understanding  with  Mr.  Grasper,  and 
that  if.  the  Count  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  consent  of  the 
daughter,  that  the  father  would  give  his  child  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars.  This  was  very  gratifying  news  to  the 
Count,  and  it  gave  an  impetus  to  his  attentions  to  Miss  Irene 
Irene  Grasper,  which  bid  fair  to  win  success.  The  Count  need 
have  had  no  fear  that  old  Mr.  Grasper  had  communicated  any 
part  of  what  he  had  heard  from  Mr.  Prime  to  any  member  of 
his  family.  He  was  too  much  a  man  of  the  world,  and  knew 
human  character  too  well  to  be  guilty  of  any  such  gross  act. 
He  knew  his  child  possessed  an  independent  spirit,  and  be 
left  the  Count  to  conquer  it,  and  to  win  the  young  lady's  affec- 
tions by  his  own  merits. 

When  the  Count  left  that  evening  he  was  well  pleased  with 
his  day's  work,  but  he  added,  "  1  am  really  in  love  myself. — 
She  is  just  the  tall,  stately  woman  I  have  always  had  in  view 
as  my  Countess  whenever  I  married.  What  a  sensation  she 
will  create  in  Parts,  Warsaw,  or  even  St.  Petersburgh.  I  am 
a  lucky  dog  if  I  win  her,  even  had  I  not  the  assurance  of  the 


258  VIGOR. 

trifling  sum  that  will  become  hers  whenever  our  nuptials  are 
celebrated." 

He  dreamed  of  Irene  Grasper  that  night  when  he    went  to 
sleep. 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 

Mrs.  Woodruff — Her  House — Her  great  Game  in  New  York  Life — Modes 
of  Capture — Miss  Norris  a  great  Card — Jane  Graham  Weston — A  Hor- 
rid Story  —  Her  heath,  leaving  Sixty  Thousand  Dollars— Mrs.  Miller,  the 
Mother  of  Miss  Josephine  Clifton  —  The  study  of  Character  and  Life,  by 
Mi*s  Norris. 

MRS.  WOODRUFF  pursued  the  even  tenor  of  her  way  in  Bond 
street,  respected  by  all  in  her  church,  and  all  those  with  whom 
she  came  in  contact  who  did  not-  know  her  real  character,  or 
that  she  was  a  "  whited  sepulchre."  She  had  long  since  quar- 
relled with  the  Count  Falsechinski,  or  rather  that  noble  indi- 
vidual, after  the  Parker  affair,  consulted  his  prudence  and  cut 
the  good  lady's  acquaintance.  Such  sort  of  proceedings  as 
those  connected  with  Mrs.  Parker  and  her  daughter,  assisted 
by  Mr.  O'Doemall,  the  Count  deemed  extremely  dangerous  ; 
and  after  levying  what  he  thought  a  fair  tax  upon  such  fair  sin- 
ners, he  withdrew  from  the  connexion. 

But  the  business  of  Mrs  Woodruff  did  not  diminish.  Her 
horses  pranced  more  proudly  than  ever  as  they  whirled  her 
carriage  down  Broadway,  or  out  upon  the  avenues.  No  grand- 
er equipage  rested  for  its  mistress  at  the  portals  of  God's 
fashionable  sanctuary,  Grace  Church,  than  the  widow's.  A 
coat-of-arms  was  neatly  emblazoned  upon  the  panels  of  the 
carriage,  and  her  coachman  and  footman  both  wore  costly  liv- 
eries. 

Her  visitors  increased.  Ladies  from  the  South,  accompa- 
nied by  their  husbands,  and  who  stopped  at  the  leading  hotels, 
left  their  cards  at  Mrs.  Woodruff's,  and  frequently  called. 
Such  ladies  as  were  disposed  to  criminal  indulgence,  either  to 
gratify  their  passions  or  to  increase  their  pecuniary  resources, 
found  a  friend  in  Mrs.  Woodruff.  Her  correspondence  was 
extensive.  Her  acquaintance  with  the  old  roues  and  men  of 
wealth  seemed  almost  incredible. 

One  of  the  most  gifted,  beautiful  and  fascinating  ladies  on 
Mrs.  Woodruff's  list  was  Clara  Norris.  To  her  gentlemen  cus- 
tomers pious  Mrs.  Woodruff  represented  Clara  as  one  of  the 


VIGOR.    -  259 

most  fashionable  and  virtuous  young  married  ladies  in  the  city. 
She  was  the  beautiful  "  Mrs.  Sinclair,"  the  accomplished  "Mrs. 
Percy,"  or  the  wealthy  "  Mrs.  Jones,",  as  occasion  served. 
When  Mrs.  Woodruff  wished  to  make  a  deep  impression,  and 
had  a  wealthy  man  in  tow,  she  would  promise  to  introduce 
"  Mrs.  Sinclair  "  to  the  party.  "  But  you  had  better  see  her 
first.  I  will  get  her  to  take  a  seat  in  my  pew  at  Grace  Church 
next  Sunday."  Then  the  rich  fool  who  was  to  be  victimized 
would  watch  the  descent  of  the  widow  and  Clara  at  the  church 
door  next  Sunday.  He  would  see  a  young,  and  as  he  supposed 
married  lady,  glowing  with  beauty,  meekly  entering  a  church 
to  pay  her  morning  devotions.  He  could  hardly  believe  it  pos- 
sible that  his  good  fortune  was  so  great  as  to  be  able  to  secure 
so  much  beauty ;  and  when  he  went  to  Mrs  Woodruff  to  make 
his  financial  arrangements,  the  worthy  would  name  as  the  price 
of  the  interview,  in  consequence  of  the  great  risk,  or  the  diffi- 
culty of  approaching  the  lady,  who  had  plenty  of  money,  or 
some  other  cause,  the  sum  of  five  hundred  dollars  for  an  inter- 
view of  an  hour.  She  never  named  less  than  one  hundred 
dollars — and  whether  the  sum  was  the  larger  or  the  smaller 
amount,  or  an  intervening  sum,  the  honest  woman  divided  it 
fairly  with  Clara  Norris.  *  - 

Clara  was  a  great  card  for  the  widow,  and  the  game  between 
them  was  played  for  a  long  time  with  such  success,  that  Clara 
would  have  been  a  constant  visitor  at  the  house,  had  not  the 
parties  limited  her  acquaintance  within  bounds.  Some  of  those 
gentlemen  who  made  her  acquaintance  wished  it  continued 
from  day  to  day,  at  even  such  enormous  prices,  but  the  prudent 
and  pious  widow  was  made  of  sterner  stuff — her  rule  was  made, 
and  it  was  as  unalterable  as  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Per- 
sians, which  her  minister  read  about — and  even  the  five  hun- 
dred dollar  customer  considered  himself  fortunate  if  he  suc- 
ceeded in  seeing  the  fascinating  syren  more  than  once  in  a 
fortnight.  This  game  would  have  continued  for  years,  had  not 
Clara  herself  finished  it,  by  becoming  a  frequenter  of  houses 
of  ill-fame  of  the  first  class  down  towa. 

In  Duane  street,  No.  106,  resided  for  a  great  many  years  a 
most  extraordinary  female,  of  the  name  of  Jane  Graham,  alias 
Jane  Graham  West.  It  was  the  misfortune  of  Miss  Norris  to 
become  acquainted  with  this  lady,  whose  memoirs  would  till  a 
book.  At  that  time,  her  house  was  the  first  in  New  York.  It 
was  visited  by  the  most  aristocratic,  old  and  young,  citizen  or 
stranger.  The  house  is  still  standing — a  three  story  house,  not 
far  from  Broadway,  on  the  North  river  side.  In  this  den,  in 


2  GO  VIGOR. 

one  of  the  largest  and  most  splendidly  furnished  apartments 
in  the  house,  was  Clara  Norris  induced  to  take  up  her  abode 
for  a  long  time.  Her  fame  soon  spread,  and  hundreds,  yea 
thousands  visited  the  house  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  the  ac- 
complished and  widely  talked  of  Clara  Norris. 

The  keeper  of  the  house  could  play  no  tricks  upon  Clara — 
she  was  as  shrewd  as  Jane  Graham  herself.  She  paid  for  her 
board  twenty-five  dollars  per  week — and  the  harvest  left  to 
Mrs.  Graham  was  the  immense  quantities  of  wines  sold  to  the 
visitors  brought  to  the  house  to  see  Clara — and  the  sums  she 
herself  received  were  enormous.  It  was  a  gay  life,  and  she 
liked  it ;  and  although  she  remained  at  the  head  of  the  first- 
class  ladies  of  Mrs.  Woodruff's  house,  she  did  not  like  that 
mode  of  life  as  well  as  the  one  she  led  with  Mrs.  Graham. 
Clara  Norris  liked  the  society  of  the  house  where  she  lived. 
She  reigned  a  queen,  and  all  bowed  to  her  supremacy.  She 
thought  that  such  a  life  would  last  forever — but  after  six 
months'  residence  in  that  establishment,  she  had  a  quarrel 
with  Mrs.  Graham  and  left  her.  She  then  visited  for  a  few 
days  her  parents'  home,  and  carried  up  with  her  savings  bank 
credits  for  a  very  large  sum  of  money,  obtained  in  the  resi- 
dence of  Mrs.  Graham,  and  from  her  occasional  visits  to  Mrs. 
Woodruff.  She  clearec?  in  this  business  in  the  space  of  nine 
months  over  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  presents  of  jewelry  that 
almost  equalled  that  amount  She  never  varied  from  one  pur- 
pose. However  careless  or  dissipated,  she  did  not  neglect 
visits  to  the  savings  bank  once  a  week,  and  the  sums  she  de- 
posited were  never  equalled  by  any  woman  of  her  class.  She 
invariably  visited  the  bank  alone,  and  kept  her  bankbook  front 
all  eyes  but  her  own.  When  she  visited  her  father  she  showed 
it  to  him,  and  sometimes  would  say,  "  Father,  if  ever  I  should 
die,  look  out  for  this  bank  book,  and  claim  it  on  call  at  the 
bank,  and  claim  it  as  my  heir."  Her  prudent  lawyer  in  New- 
ton was  informed  of  the  amount  she  had  in  bank.  He  ex- 
plained to  her  how  much  better  it  was  to  have  it  in  a  safer 
way.  She  paid  his  expenses,  and  he  came  to  New  York.  Un- 
der his  direction,  she  became  the  owner  of  two  small  brick 
houses  in  one  of  the  cross  streets  below  Canal,  that  ran  from 
Broadway  to  the  North  river. 

When  the  purchase  of  the  houses  had  been  completed,  and 
the  deeds  taken  out  in  her  name  had  been  recorded,  he  took 
them  with  him  to  Sussex,  and  deposited  them  in  his  iron  safe. 
The  rents  from  these  two  houses  was  nine  hundred  dollars. 

The  worthy  Jane  Graham  was  very  loth   to  part  with  Miss 


VIGOR.  2G1 

Norris.  "  Better  stay,  Clara ;  you  are  the  best  card  I  ever 
bad  in  my  house.  I  am  rich — I  will  leave  you  ray  business, 
and  if  I  die,  as  I  have  no  heirs,  you  shall  be  my  heiress." 

Clara  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  these  proposals.  Yet  Jane  Gra- 
ham West  could  have  made  all  good.  She  owned  at  that  time 
fifty  thousand  dollars  in  United  States  Bank  stiick,  and  was 
worth  an  equal  sum  in  other  property.  She  made  it  in  lhat 
business,  and  although  she  held  on  to  her  United  States  Bank 
stock  until  it  was  worthless,  yet  she  seemed  no  poorer.  She 
fell  in  love  with  a  young  mate  of  one  of  the  Havre  packet  ships, 
named  Frederick  Hewitt.  He  promised  the  old  dame  marriage, 
and  she  bought  him  one-half  of  the  ship  Manhattan,  and  made 
him  captain  of  her.  He  refused  to  marry  her  after  he  became 
a  commander,  and  married  a  young  lady  in  Mobile.  Jane 
Graham  sued  him  for  a  breach  of  promise  of  marriage,  and  ono 
of  the  most  ridiculous  law  trials  took  place  between  these  par- 
ties that  ever  occurred  in  any  country.  The  lady  recovered 
six  cents  damages,  and  the  captain  a  ridiculous  notoriety  that 
followed  him  to  the  grave.  He  did  not  live  long  afterwards, 
and  the  lady,  Jane  Graham,  after  the  loss  of  her  United  States 
Bank  stock,  took  it  into  her  head  that  she  was  beggared,  and 
never  held  up  her  head  more.  She  was  abandoned  by  all  of 
her  girls,  and  left  alone  in  that  large  house,  her  only  compan- 
ion being  a  negro  hag. 

Jenny  Graham  was  found  strangled  one  morning.  It  was  a 
question  whether  the  deed  was  done  by  the  negro  womun  or  by 
Jenny  herself ;  but  as  the  latter  had  frequently  threatened  to 
put  an  end  to  her  own  life,  the  negress  got  the  benefit  of  it. 
Her  two  nephews  turned  up,  and  although  they  came  into  pos- 
session of  over  sixty  thousand  dollars  each,  from  Jenny's  death, 
and  were  miserably  poor  before  it  happened,  yet  the  ungrateful 
wretches  boxed  her  up  in  a  wooden  coffin,  and  sent  her  with- 
out expense  to  Potter's  Field.  Such  was  the  end  of  a  remark- 
able woman,  who  for  many  years  was  a  warm  friend  and  a  great 
admirer  of  Clara  Norris. 

When  Miss  Norris  returned  from  her  home,  after  her  quar- 
rel w;th  Jane  Graham,  she  made  a  short  stay  at  the  palace  of 
Mrs.  Woodruff.  But  it  was  too  gloomy  for  her — more  espe- 
cially as  she  had  now  got  a  taste  for  a  free  and  easy  life. 

"  I  must  follow  the  bent  of  my  inclinations,  and  I  cannot 
help  it,  good  woman,"  was  her  reply  to  Mrs.  Woodruff,  who  in 
vain  remonstrated  with  Clara  Norris  against  her  becoming  a 
public  character. 

"  You  will  ruin  yourself,  body  and   soul.     You  will  spoil 


262  VIGOR. 

your  market,  iny  beauty,  and  that  will  be  the  upshot  of  this 
business,"  observed  Mrs.  Woodruff. 

"  Can't  help  it — can't  help  it,  if  I  die  for  it. 

"  '  There  is  a  destiny  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough  hew  them  as  we  will,' 

as   Shakespeare   says,  and  mine   is   fixed,  Mrs.  Woodruff.     I 
must  pursue  my  own  career." 

And  true  enough,  a  few  days  after  this  conversation  Miss 
Norris  was  a  resident  in  a  house  of  a  lower  grade  than  that  of 
Jane  Graham.  She  went  to  reside  with  Mrs.  Miller,  one  of 
the  most  extraordinaay  women  of  her  class  in  New  York. 
When  Miss  Norris  went  with  her,  the  age  of  the  old  lady  was 
fast  verging  upon  seventy  years. 

About  this  time  Clara  met  the  Count  Falsechinski  in  the 
street.  He  stopped,  and  politely  accosted  her.  She  gave  him 
her  address — "  Mrs.  Miller,  No.  114  Church  street."  The 
Count  looked  at  it  a  moment. 

"  Good  God,  Miss  Norris  !  Are  you  in  that  house  from  ne- 
cessity, or  to  please  yourself?''  he  asked. 

"  To  gratify  my  own,  curiosity,  Count,"  she  replied.  "  I 
want  to  get  acquainted  with  this  woman.  She  is  a  study  to 
me.  Do  you  know,  Count,  that  she  is  the  mother  of  Josephine 
Clifton,  the  great  actress?  Do  you  know,  also,  that  she  is  the 
mother  of  Miss  Missouri,  that  Hamlin  is  just  bringing  out,  and 
who  promises  to  be  equal  in  genius  and  talent  to  her  splendid 
sister,  Josephine  1" 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Clara,  I  did  not  know  it.  But  I  must  say 
good-bye— I  will  call  and  see  you  ere  long ;"  and  the  Count 
passed  on. 

"  Afraid  to  be  seen  speaking  to  me  in  the  street,"  remarked 
Miss  Norris,  after  the  Count's  sudden  departure.  "  Well,  it 
i.s  the  way  of  the  world.  I  ought  not  to  have  expected  differ- 
ent treatment." 

For  some  months  Miss  Norris  was  a  resident  of  Mrs.  Miller's, 
but  she  found  the  old  lady  a  miserly  old  woman,  without  one 
redeeming  feature.  She  became  acquainted  with  one  of  her 
sons  named  Nelson  Miller,  on  whom  the  old  woman  lavished 
her  affections  and  her  money.  Clara  became  disgusted  with 
the  old  woman,  and  again  made  a  removal,  but  this  time  it  was 
back  to  Mrs.  Woodruff's,  where  we  shall  for  the  present  leave 
her. 


VIGOR.     •  263 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

Home  tif  Mr.  Granville — H'ippiness  of  the  Young  Cuupte.  Mr.  and  Mrs, 
Benson—Young  B-nson  Go<s  into  JBusiness — Depressed  State  of  Mind  of 
Miss  Margaret  Benson. 

THE  marriage  of  Middleton  Benson  to  Isabella  Granville, 
although  a  very  sudden  affair,  seemed  to  give  the  fathers  of  the 
young  couple  the  most  unbounded  satisfaction.  Mr.  Granville 
gave  up  his  house  to  the  young  people,  and  even  went  so  far  as 
to  deed  to  them  all  the  costly  furniture  that  it  contained. 
Colonel  Benson  was  not  behind  hand.  He  made  the  bride  the 
most  costly  presents,  and  so  far  as  household  furniture  was 
concerned,  he  purchased  a  sufficient  quantity  to  have  started  a 
dozen  new  married  couples  in  all  necessary  articles  for  house- 
keeping. Spacious  and  roomy  as  was  the  old  State  street  man- 
sion, yet  every  room  was  crowded  with  furniture,  and  pre- 
sented an  odd  mixture  of  old  and  new  fashions. 

The  young  couple  appeared  very  happy.  Isabella  did  not 
seem  to  have  lost  any  portion  of  her  gaiety,  and  her  laugh  was 
as  merry  and  cheering  as  of  old.  Their  appearance  seemed  to 
confirm  the  father  in  his  belief  that  all  he  had  done  had  been 
for  the  best.  Middleton  Benson,  his  son-in-law,  had  been  ad- 
mitted a  partner  into  the  commercial  firm  where  he  had  been 
so  long  a  clerk,  and  his  father  retired  from  it,  giving  to  his  son 
the  interest  and  the  capital  that  belonged  to  him  as  a  partner. 
Every  few  evenings  the  two  fathers  would  meet,  and  over  a 
bottle  or  two  of  choice  wine  would  congratulate  themselves 
upon  the  happy  results  of  their  proceedings.  From  Mrs. 
Thomas  Granville  they  had  not  heard  except  indirectly.  She 
was  living  with  her  aged  grandmother,  and  long  since  had  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  from  the  Maryland  Legislature  an  act 
T/hich  divorced  her  from  her  husband,  but  the  departure  of 
Mrs.  Granville  had  not  altered  Mr.  Pitt  Granville's  domestic 
arrangements.  He  never  spoke  of  her  to  his  daughter — never 
missed  her.  She  had  attempted  to  interfere  with  his  domestic 
purposes,  and  to  use  his  own  expressive  sentence  to  Colonel 
Benson,  "  I  kicked  her  out  of  the  house,  and  that  is  the  end  of 
her  so  far  as  I  am  concerned." 


264  *  VIGOR. 

There  was  cue  chosen  old  friend  that  Mr.  Granville  missed 
sadly.  It  was  Colonel  Mac  Neil.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to 
send  a  note  to  the  Colonel,  inviting  him  to  renew  his  inti- 
macy. The  Colonel  was  poor,  but  he  was  a  proud  man.  He 
could  not  get  over  the  fact  that  in  the  dire  extremity  to  which 
his  .firm  was  reduced,  Granville,  his  friend,  had  refused  relief, 
and  at  a  moment  so  late  that  his  failure  was  the  consequence. 

"  It  might  have  happened  later,"  would  the  .Colonel  reason, 
"  but  then,  that  probability  ought  not  to  weigh  in  favor  of 
Granville's  course.  He  did  refuse  me  a  small  loan  which  he 
had  promised,  and  even  if  he  had  lost  it  all,  what  was  that  to 
him  ?" 

The  Colonel  sternly  resisted  all  overtures,  and  took  no  no- 
tice of  Mr.  Granville's  note,  except  to  exhibit  it  to  every  mu- 
tual friend  that  he  met.  Not  only  did  Colonel  Mac  Neil  refuse 
to  associate  with  Mr.  Granville,  but  he  also  dropped  all  ac- 
quaintance with  Colonel  Benson  and  his  family,  where  he  had 
been  a  great  favorite.  His  place,  however,  as  a  visitor  at  the 
residence  of  Colonel  Benson,  was  fully  {supplied  by  Frank 
Gaillard.  He  was  a  regular  and  a  constant  visitor,  and  Miss 
Margaret  rarely  went  out  without  being  accompanied  by  her 
lover,  as  he  styled  himself.  The  poor  girl  was  completely 
fascinated  with  this  arch  deceiver.  She  loved  him  with  her 
whole  soul,  and  it  was  noticed  by  her  mother,  that  from  being 
a  lively  and  gay  girl,  she  was  frequently  much  depressed  in 
spirits  and  often  found  in  tears.  In  vain  did  her  mother  seek 
her  confidence,  and  endeavor  to  fathom  the  cause  of  her  wo. 
Did  she  ask  if  Mr.  Gaillard  had  told  her  that  he  loved  her? 
Margaret  replied  with  the  simple  word  "  Yes." 

"Has  he  proposed  to  marry  you  ?'" 

The  reply  of  the  poor  girl,  with  a  deep  drawn  sigh,  was 
"  No." 

That  was  all  that  could  be  obtained  from  Margaret.  The 
mother  felt  that  there  was  some  thing  wrong,  and  mentioned  the 
facts  to  her  husband.  The  Colonel  laughed  at  her.  Called  her 
a  silly,  anxious  old  woman,  and  then  forgot  all  about  it.  That 
Frank  Gaillard  or  any  other  white  man  alive,  dared  to  dream 
of  doing  him  or  any  member  of  his  family  a  deep  wrong,  never 
entered  into  his  brain.  He  conceived  such  a  thing  impossible. 
Meanwhile,  time  passed  along,  and  while  poor  Margaret  Benson 
drooped  more  and  more,  the  young  Southerner,  Francis  Gail- 
lard, became  less  and  less  devoted  to  the  sweet  girl.  From 
being  a  daily  visitor,  he  ceased  to  call  but  once  a  week.  Then 
once  in  two  weeks,  and  at  last  his  visits  suddenly  ceased,  and 


VIGOR.     -  265 

the  poor  but  proud  spirited  girl  bent  to  the  rod  when  she 
learned  that  Mr.  Gaillard  had  left  New  York  for  his  home  in 
the  South.  She  read  his  name  among  the  passengers  by  a  ves- 
sel that  had  sailed  for  Charleston.  Still,  she  spoke  not  to  her 
parents  of  the  intense  agony  that  his  departure  had  caused. 
She  seemed  stupified,  and  a  few  days  after  his  departure  she 
called  at  the  office  of  Mr.  Granville,  and  asked  to  see  him 
alone. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  young  lady,  come  at  once  in  my  private 
office,  and  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you.  Some  thing  is  on 
your  mind,"  kindly  remarked  Mr.  GranTille. 

Miss  Benson  followed  him  into  the  inner  office,  and  when 
she  was  seated  she  asked  if  he  would  confer  a  favor  upon  her 
for  a  few  days. 

"  And  not  mention  it  to  my  father,  or  any  one  of  the  fam- 
ily ?"  she  imploringly  inquired. 

"  If  you  do  not  wish  me  to  do  so,"  was  the  reply  of  her 
father's  friend  Granville. 

"  I  wish  to  borrow  of  you  fifty  dollars,"  said  Miss  Benson. 

Mr.  Granville  replied,  "  With  pleasure,  immediately,"  and 
walked  into  the  front  office  and  procured  the  money  from  the 
cashier.  He  was  frightened,  and  yet  he  did  not  know  what  to 
say  or  what  to  do.  Some  thing  was  wrong.  What  could  it 
be  ?  Why  did  she  not  go  to  her  father,  mother,  brother  ? 
Why  come  to  him  ?  As  he  handed  her  the  money,  he  pleas- 
antly observed,  "  Really  " but  she  shook  her  finger. 

"  No  questions  arc  to  be  asked,  and  more  than  that,  not  a 
word  is  to  be  said  to  my  parents  or  any  of  my  relations.  I 
shall  see  you  this  evening  at  our  house,  shall  I  not  ?" 

Mr.  Granville  bowed,  and  followed  her  to  the  door.  When 
she  had  left  him,  he  sat  down  for  several  minutes  to  try  and 
fathom  the  mystery.  The  young  lady  went  directly  from  Mr. 
Granville's  office  to  that  of  George  Sutton,  the  agent  of  the 
packet  line. that  plied  between  New  York  and  Charleston, 
There  she  inquired  when  the  first  vessel  sailed  for  Charleston. 
She  was  told  that  a  ship  would  sail  the  next  day,  and  she  in- 
stantly paid  for  the  passage  of  a  lady,  and  this  accomplished, 
and  obtaining  the  exact  hour  when  the  ship  would  sail,  she 
wended  her  way  home.  That  evening  she  was  the  gayest  of 
the  gay.  Early  the  next  morning  she  sent  a  carpet  bag  to  a 
store  in  Broadway  by  a  servant,  saying  that  it  was  goods  she 
had  purchased,  but  wished  to  return.  About  noon  she  dressed 
herself  as  if  for  a  walk — went  to  the  store,  and  took  the  carpet 
bag.  In  the  street  she  hired  a  porter,  who  took  it  on  board 

12 


266  VIGOR. 

the  ship,  and  she  went  on  hoard  and  retired  to  her  state-room. 
That  afternoon  the  vessel  went  down  with  the  tide  and  a  fair 
hreeze  and  passed  the  Narrows. 

When  dinner  time  came  Miss  Benson  was  missed,  but  no 
alarm  was  exerted  in  the  minds  of  any  of  her  relations.  The 
tea  hour  came,  but  no  Margaret,  and  then  the  mother  became 
somewhat  alarmed,  but  not  seriously.  So  she  sent  a  message 
to  Mr.  Granville's  house  to  have  Miss  Margaret  come  home. 
Then  her  brother,  Middleton  Benson,  came,  and  when  he  said 
his  sister  had  not  been  there  that  day,  the  whole  house  wa3 
alarmed,  and  the  utmost  confusion  prevailed.  The  male  mem- 
bers of  the  family  started  in  different  directions,  but  up  to  a 
late  hour  that  night  no  clue  could  be  obtained  of  the  missing 
one.  The  next  day  the  search  was  renewed,  but  with  no  more 
success  than  had  been  obtained  the  previous  day.  When 
Margaret  was  first  missed,  suspicion  was  attached  to  Francis 
Gaillard,  but  his  having  departed  for  Charleston  cleared  him 
in  their  minds.  Mr.  Granville  did  not  mention  for  some  time 
the  circumstance  of  her  borrowing  the  fifty  dollars.  No  sooner 
had  he  mentioned  this  than  the  mother  exclaimed,  "  Is  it  pos- 
sible that  she  can  have  used  that  money  to  follow  Gaillard  to 
Charleston  ?"  This  started  the  pursuit  on  a  new  track.  At 
the  office  they  found  that  a  young  lady  had  taken  a  passage  in 
the  ship  that  had  sailed  for  Charleston  three  days  previous 
The  description  answered  to  Margaret.  "  I  will  follow  my 
child  in  the  next  ship,"  exclaimed  the  agonized  father — and  he 
did  so. 


CHAPTER 

The    Riscalitif.s   of  Mr.   O'Dowill-  Hi*  Experiinces    among    Boarding 
Uov.se  Keepers. 

SOON  after  the  Count  Falsecninski  had  quarrelled  with  Ma- 
dame Woodruff,  that  worthy  lady  turned  her  attentions  toward 
Mr.  O'Doemall.  fthe  had  seen  that  gentleman  frequently  in 
company  with  Mrs.  Parker,  and  admired  his  unparalleled  im- 
pudence. She  invited  him  to  escort  her  to  church  on  Sunday 
morning,  and  used  him  occasionally  as  a  decoy.  But  the  fact 
was,  she  was  afraid  of  him,  for  O'Doemall  was  boisterous — a 
loud  talker  and  a  great  boaster.  Mrs.  Woodruff,  on  the  contra- 
ry, was  as  secret  as  the  grave  in  all  her  transactions — and  if 


VIGOR.  267 

she  could  have  prevented  her  right  hand  from  knowing  what 
the  left  hand  was  doing,  would  have  done  it.  It  can  easily  be 
imagined  that  an  alliance  between  two  such  opposite  eharac- 
.'ers  would  not  last  long. 

Mr.  O'Doernall  was  a  great  spendthrift,  and  when  he  could 
no  longer  obtain  funds  from  Mrs.  Parker,  and  was  thrown  up- 
on his  own  resources,  he  became  very  short  of  cash.  Mrs. 
Woodruff  furnished  him  with  an  outfit,  and  Mr.  O'Doemall 
could  again  promenade  Broadway  the  well-dressed  gentleman, 
and  the  observed  of  all  Broadway  observers.  Mr.  O'Doemall 
was  one  of  the  most  accomplished  scamps  that  ever  floated  on 
the  fashionable  scum  in  New  York.  A  large  portion  of  his 
time  was  occupied  in  prowling  about  New  York,  seeking  fe- 
male victims.  He  had  a  keen  eye,  and  could  tell  at  a  glance 
such  as  would  suit  his  purpose.  He  watched  for  them  early 
in  the  morning,  and  half  the  afternoon.  Sometimes  upon  the 
Battery,  and  oftener  in  St.  John's  Park,  and  the  parks  and 
squares  and  places  up  town. 

On  one  occasion  he  met  a  young  and  pretty  girl  in  St.  John's 
Park.  O'Doemall  had  procured  a  key  that  would  open  the 
gates.  He  made  bold  to  accost  her,  and  discovered  that  she 
was  of  English  stock — and  while  he  apologized  in  the  most 
humble  manner  for  his  boldness  in  addressing  her,  yet  he  ma- 
naged to  throw  in  the  announcement  that  he  was  an  English 
Captain,  nephew  to  some  English  Peer,  and  that  he  was  pass- 
ing through  the  city  on  his  way  to  join  his  regiment  in  Cana- 
da. The  young  lady  allowed  him  to  escort  her  home,  and  then 
introduced  him  to  her  father,  who  really  was  a  half-pay  officer 
in  the  English  service.  Luckily  for  O'Doemall  he  was  well 
posted  in  the  locality  of  the  English  regiments,  and  the  names 
of  their  officers,  and  for  a  long  time  was  not  detected.  He 
even  went  so  far  as  to  borrow  a  hundred  dollars  from  the  fa- 
ther. 

He  made  rapid  advances  in  the  affections  of  the  young  lady, 
and  the  night  rambles  in  St.  John's  Park,  (one  of  the  worst 
assignation  places  and  where  more  loveliness  has  been  wrecked 
than  in  any  house  of  ill-fame  in  the  city.)  soon  completed  her 
ruin.  He  then  promised  to  marry  her  if  she  would  leave  home 
and  go  with  him  to  a  small  town  on  the  New  Jersey  coast.  She 
consented,  and  the  father  became  a  broken-hearted  man.  He 
followed  the  seducer  to  Canada,  where  he  supposed  he  had 
gone,  and  there  met  the  real  officer,  whose  name  O'Doemall 
had  taken,  and  whose  rank  he  had  assumed,  and  learned  how 
grossly  he  had  been  deceived.  But  he  could  get  no  clue  to 


268  VIGOR. 

O'Doemall,  xnd  he  went  back  to  England.  The  instant  0 'Do- 
ornail became  aware  of  the  fact,  he  brought  his  victim  to  New 
York,  placed  her  in  a  brothel,  and  then  abandoned  her  forever. 
She  of  course  became  a  girl  of  the  town  at  once,  for  she  had 
no  other  resource  left. 

It  was  not  unfrequently  that  Mr.  O'Doeiqall  was  turned  out 
of  his  hotel.  He  had  used  himself  up  in  every  prominent  on 3 
in  the  city.  There  was  not  one  that  he  had  not  swindled. 
Blancard  once  said  that  it  was  really  a  pleasure  to  be  victim- 
ized by  him,  as  his  explanation  and  apologies  were  "  so  very 
funny  and  interesting."  He  managed  to  pay  the  rent  of  his 
office  in  New  street,  so  that  if  he  was  turned  out  of  a  hotel, 
he  could  rally  at  his  office.  He  would  go  there  when  thus 
turned  out,  pack  up  two  or  more  large  trunks  with  bricks, 
boards,  and  rubbish,  hire  a  cartman,  and  tell  him  to  drive  to 
some  private  boarding  house.  He  had  a  list,  and  would  select 
one  where  it  was  not  probable  that  he  could  be  known.  Once 
in  the  bouse,  he  would  select  the  most  extravagant  apart- 
ments to  be  had,  find  fault  with  every  thing,  and  play  the  rich 
Southerner,  or  any  other  character  which  he  had  adopted. 

A  glance  at  the  parties  assembled  around  the  dining-room 
table  would  serve  to  convey  to  O'Doemall  the  peculiarities  of 
any  person  present.  His  conversation,  dress,  and  impudence, 
w.ould  sweep  down  all  opposition.  Then  he  would,  before 
twenty-four  hours  had  passed,  ingratiate  himself  fully  with 
the  landlady,  and  if  she  had  one  or  two  daughters  his  game 
was  secure.  He  would  notice  that  one  daughter  was  receiving 
the  attentions  of  a  young  man  boarding  in  the  house.  O'Do- 
emall would  boldly  say  to  the  young  lady,  "  Miss,  I  am  aston- 
ished that  you  associate  with  or  permit  the  attentions  of  that 
young  man.  I  tell  you  this  in  confidence,  for  I  am  a  warm 
friend  of  your  mother  ;  but  this  young  man— (he  must  have 
been  drunk,  I  think) — told  me  in  confidence  last  night  that  he 
had  no  idea  of  marrying  you,  because  he  slept  with  you  fre- 
quently, without  any  such  ceremony."  To  the  youth  in  ques- 
tion, O'Doemall  hud  previously  told  him  that  the  landlady  saw 
through  him,  and  had  said  that  he  "  was  trying  to  marry  her 
daughter  in  order  to  sponge  out  his  board  bill." 

These  barefaced  assertions  would  quickly  make  Pandemoni- 
um of  the  most  pious  boarding  houses  in  the  city — and  if  Mr. 
O'Doemall  was  ever  called  upon  for  any  explanation,  he  would 
face  the  music,  and  declare  the  assertions  had  been  made  to 
him  by  the  parties  themselves.  If  he  accidentally  met  the 
wife  of  any  rather  weak-minded  boarder  in  the  street  alone, 


VIGOR.  269 

O'Doemall  would  hurry  down  to  the  gentleman's  place  of 
business,  beg  him  not  to  get  angry,  as  he  only  wished  to  say 
that  he  saw  his  wife  entering  such  a  house  with  such  a  cler- 
gyman, (if  there  was  one  boarding  in  the  house,)  and  that  he 
the  husband  had  better  look  into  the  matter.  The  house  would 
be  some  private  assignation  house,  and  O'Doemall  knew  every 
one  in  the  city. 

A  month  would  generally  raise  particular  Ned  in  the  board- 
ing house,  if  it  had  not  nearly  ruined  it,  and  the  mischief-ma- 
ker would  be  the  powerful  adviser  of  all  the  belligerents,  and 
the  particular  friend  of  the  landlady.  If  he  was  called  upon 
for  money,  he  had  a  hundred  excuses  ready,  but  he  generally 
contrived  to  make  such  a  scene  of  confusion  in  the  house,  that 
money  was  unthought  of.  When  his  game  was  nearly  played 
out,  after  living  on  the  fat  of  the  land  for  four  or  six  months, 
and  landlady  and  boarders  were  loud  in  their  execrations,  and 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  him  at  any  price,  0  Doeinall  would  deter- 
mine to  leave  a  sting  behind  which  should  prove  a  deadly  one. 
If  it  was  at  dinner,  he  would  rise  and  say,  "  Ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, I  am  forced  to  leave  this  house.  It  is  extremely  un- 
pleasant for  me  to  remain  here  longer.  The  pious  landlady 
has  made  a  statement  that  I  am  in  arrears  for  board.  What 
will  you  think  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  let  her  have  ten, 
twenty,  and  fifty  dollars  at  a  time  ?  She  has  come  to  my  bed 
night  after  night  for  months,  and  now  she  says  that  she  is  in  a 
delicate  situation — that  I  am  the  author,  of  her  misfortune, 
and  wants  me  to  marry  her.  Of  course  I  shall  do  nothing  of 
the  kind — I  will  leave  the  house  first." 

The  landlady  would  generally  faint  at  such  an  infamous 
charge,  and  the  daughters  would  scream.  The  boarders  would 
be  perfectly  aghast,  and  some  believe  it,  and  the  lying  scoun- 
drel would  walk  out  in  triumph.  No  one  would  take  it  up. 
The  very  enormity  of  the  charge  would  make  the  innocent  ob- 
jects of  it  quail,  and  exhibit  all  the  terror  of  real  guilt.  Or 
perhaps  it  would  be  a  landlady  who  in  a  moment  of  weakness 
had  become  a  victim  to  this  arch  deceiver  ;  he  would  then  live 
on  her  for  weeks  and  months,  borrow  all  her  earnings,  and  not 
leave  until  he  had  ruined  and  broken  up  her  establishment. 

Mr.  O'Doemall  in  a  quiet  boarding  house  could  only  be  re- 
presented by  a  fierce,  unrelenting  hawk,  quartered  in  a  barn- 
yard surrounded  by  a  peaceful  lot  of  roosters,  hens,  and  differ- 
ent sized  chickens.  It  was  all  one  side  ;  the  poor  domestic 
fowls  stood  no  sort  of  chance. 

In  his  business,  no  one  could  get  any  hold  of  him.      His  of- 


270  VIGOR. 

fice  or  store  rent  was  cheap,  and  that  he  paid  promptly.  He 
had  a  handsome  business  card,  and  he  paid  two  dollars  and  a 
half  a  thousand  for  them.  These  alone  gave  him  respectabili- 
ty and  position  with  strangers,  for  who  could  gainsay  it  1  He 
could  be  found  at  his  store  ;  and  many  a  tailor,  shoemaker,  dry 
goods  dealer,  and  tradesman,  was  victimized  to  a  greater  or 
less  extent.  He  owed  all.  But  those  who  sued,  made  costs 
for  themselves.  His  very  furniture  in  the  office  could  not,  be 
disturbed,  for  it  was  mortgaged  to  the  landlord.  The  only 
way  for  his  victim  was  to  laugh,  for  O'Doemall  did  find  associ- 
ates with  gentlemen,  and  particularly  among  English  noble- 
men or  gentry,  and  he  would  take  these  persons  to  shops  that 
he  knew,  and  owed  money  to. 

His  malice  was  intense  and  fearful.  He  made  a  purchase  of 
some  wine  of  one  of  the  most  sturdy  merchants  in  the  city. 
This  man  was  a  member  of  Dr.  Spring's  church.  He  refused 
to  let  him  have  the  wine  until  he  paid  for  it.  The  swindler 
swore  vengeance.  Unluckily  the  merchant  left  New  York  on 
a  visit  of  some  weeks'  duration.  O'Doemall  managed  to  put 
himself  in  the  way  of  all  this  merchant's  acquaintance,  and  as 
if  by  Accident,  mentioned  his  regret  that  so  fine  an  old  mer- 
chant should  be  so  sorely  afflicted — that  he  visited  him  once  a 
month  in  the  Bloomingdale  asylum,  where  he  was  confined  as 
a  madman. 

No  matter  who  starts  such  a  story  as  this,  where  there  is  a 
shadow  of  foundation,  it  runs  like  Greek  fire,  and  is  very 
speedily  so  extensively  spread,  that  in  a  large  city  it  cannot 
be  traced  to  the  real  author.  O'Doemall  was  revenged — the 
story  flew  among  the  business  acquaintances  of  the  merchant, 
and  he  was  ruined.  When  he  returned,  he  did  not  know  what 
had  hurt  him,  for  few  like  to  tell  a  supposed  madman  that  they 
are  aware  of  his  having  been  in  a  mad-house. 

This  bad  man,  as  bold  as  he  was  wicked,  had,  as  our  readers 
will  remember,  formed  an  early  intimacy  with  most  of  those 
who  were  connected  with  the  firm  of  Granville  and  Nordheim. 
He  knew  Marion  Monck,  but  that  young  man  had  cut  his  ac- 
quaintance after  the  shirt  story  affair.  But  O'Doemall  was 
not  one  to  be  easily  cut,  and  no  insult  could  prevent  his  recog- 
nizing one  he  had  once  known. 

He  ascertained  that  Marion  was  sick  and  confined  to  his 
room  in  Nassau  street  where  Mr.  Bennett  lodged  ;  he  called, 
was  admitted,  and  presented  himself  in  Marion's  room,  where 
he  was  Iving  upon  a  sick  mat 's  bed. 


VIGOR.  271 

•  How  d'ye  do  ? — heard  you  were  ilj.  Come  to  see  you, 
and  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you,"  said  he. 

Marion  replied  that  he  was  glad  to  see  him.  So  he  was,  and 
so  he  would  have  been  to  have  seeu  any  one  who  could  relieve 
and  pass  away  the  weary  sick  hours.  O'Doeruall  continued  to 
be  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  sick  room.  Once  or  twice  he 
watched  all  night.  Other  friends  called — Colonel  Mac  Neil 
•was  among  the  number,  and  when  he  learned  that  O'Doemall 
had  been  so  kind,  even  he  was  disposed  to  overlook  his  owing 
him  money,  and  renewed  the  acquaintance. 

No  one  knew  the  extent  of  O'Doetnall's  rascality.  All  be- 
lieved him  a  bad  fellow,  but  perhaps  not  worse  than  many  oth- 
ers :  and  when  he  himself  related  some  of  his  most  villanous 
stories,  his  hearers  had  the  charity  to  believe  he  was  lying, 
and  only  told  such  tales  to  please  the  company.  Such  was 
not  the  fact. 

The  effect  of  renewing  his  acquaintance  with  O'Doemall, 
both  upon  Marion  and  Mac  Neil,  will  form  matter  for  another 
chapter. 


CHAPTER   XLVII. 

J/t.«*  Bfnson  arrives  KT/ '  ly  in  Charleston — Calls  nn  Madame  Gaillard,  the 
Mother  if  Frank,  It-r  Loner-  Tills  her  S ory — Th°  MotLe.r  conveys  Aliss 
Btnson  to  her  Plantation  at  St.  John's — Yotiny  Gail  lard  in  Sick — Hit 
Marriage  with  Aliss  B  n-on  -The  Arrival  of  Col  nel  Benson — His  Satis- 
faction, and  Departure — Birth  of  a  Son  —  JJeath  of  Francis  Gaillard. 

THE  passage  of  the  ship  that;  conveyed  Miss  Benson  to 
Charleston  was  a  remarkably  short  and  pleasant  one.  To  say 
that  the  fair  traveller  did  not  undergo  the  usual  tax  of  sea- 
sickness, would  be  untrue.  She  suffered  greatly,  but  her  stern 
and  determined  purpose  kept  up  her  spirits,  and  when  she 
reached  port,  she  was  ready  to  go  on  shore  the  moment  the 
vessel  in  which  she  had  been  a  passenger  reached  the  dock  or 
wharf.  She  was  astonished  at  her  own  coolness  and  courage, 
for  she  was  not  aware  that  she  possessed  these  qualities.  Her 
baggage  was  easily  carried,  and  she  hired  one  of  the  sailors  to 
carry  her  carpet  bag,  and  to  conduct  her  to  the  Planters'  Hotel. 
As  soon  as  she  found  herself  settled,  she  sent  for  the  landlord, 
and  begged  him  to  ascertain  whether  Mrs.  Gaillard  was  in 
town,  and  if  not,  whether  she  was  at  one  of  her  plantations, 
and  which  one.  The  answer  was  favorable.  Mrs.  Gaillard 


272  VIGOR. 

was  in  town.     Miss  Benson  at  once  ordered  a  carriage,  and  in 
it  proceeded  to  the  town  residence  of  the  mother  of  her  lover. 

Her  visit  occasioned  some  surprise  ;  but  when  she  stated 
her  parentage,  the  circumstances  under  which  she  left  New 
York,  her  attachment  to  young  Gaillard,  and  at  last  informed 
her  of  the  deep  wrong  her  son  had  done  her,  and  that  she  was 
soon  to  become  a  mother,  and  that  her  long  journey  had  been 
undertaken  in  order  to  save  the  honor  of  her  unborn  child — 
his  child,  all  the  good  in  that  mother's  nature  was  thoroughly 
roused.  She  placed  her  in  a  room — sent  to  the  hotel,  paid  the 
bill,  and  had  the  carpet  bag  brought  to  her  own  house. 

"  I  believe  all  that  you  have  stated — every  word  of  it.  My 
son  shall  do  you  justice,  and  that  too  immediately,  or  I  am  no 
longer  his  mother.  We  will  start  for  the  plantation  this  very 
afternoon.  Frank  is  sick,  and  I  feel  alarmed  about  him.  Now 
lie  down,  and  make  yourself  perfectly  at  ease.  You  require 
rest  and  quiet,  and  I  will  soon  send  my  daughter  to  you,"  said 
the  mother. 

Miss  Benson  was  overcome,  and  she  flung  herself  upon  her 
knees  by  the  bedside,  and  poured  forth  sincere  thanks  to  God 
for  his  kindness  and  care.  Then  she  laid  down  upon  the  bed, 
and  soon  fell  asleep. 

In  the  mean  time,  Mrs.  Gaillard  had  informed  her  daughter 
who  the  visitor  was,  and  her  purpose  in  coining  to  Charleston. 
The  young  lady  was  prepared  to  receive  her  as  a  si.ster. 

"  What  a  cruel  wrong  Frank  has  done  to  her  !  0  mother, 
who  could  have  thought  that  my  brother  would  have  been 
guilty  of  such  an  infamous  thing  ?  I  never  will  forgive  him 
until  he  makes  wrong  right,  by  marrying  this  sweet  girl.  Will 
he  do  it,  Mamma,  dear,  do  you  think  ?" 

There  was  a  stern  contraction  of  the  haughty  brow  of  that 
stately  mother,  and  a  quivering  of  the  lips,  as  she  replied, 

"  He  will,  darling,  or  " but  the  threat  remained  un- 
spoken, and  she  continued.  "  Go,  my  child,  to  the  apartment 
of  Miss  Benson.  If  she  is  asleep  do  not  wake  her  to  misery, 
liemain  by  her  bedside,  and  comfort  her  when  she  awakes." 

The  Southern  beauty  did  as  her  mother  directed,  and  when 
Margaret  Benson  WOKC  from  a  short  sleep,  and  exclaimed 
"  Where  am  I  ?"  her  bands  were  seized  by  the  affectionate 
Miss  Gaillard,  and  she  pressed  her  lips,  as  she  exclaimed, 

"  With  those  who  will  love  you  for  your  own  sake,  and  who 
will  try  and  make  that  naughty  brother  of  mine  give  you  a  legal 
title  to  our  love.  Now  try  and  sleep  again." 

The  nest  day  after   Miss  Benson  found  a  loine  in  the  resi- 


VIGOR.  273 

dence  of  Mrs.  Gaillard,  that  lady,  her  daughter,  and  the  New 
York  arrival  were  packed  in  a  travelling  carriage  and  on  their 
way  to  the  plantation.  They  arrived  about  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon,  and  as  the  carriage  turned  off  from  the  State  road 
into  a  long  avenue,  each  side  of  which  was  ornamented  by  a 
row  of  stately  live  oaks,  Miss  Benson  almost  fainted.  How 
was  she  to  be  received  by  her  lover  ?  At  last  the  carriage 
drove  up  in  front  of  the  old  stone  mansion.  Troops  of  negroes 
of  all  sizes  and  ages  poured  out  to  meet  "  Ole  Missus." 

"  Where  is  your  master,  Tommy  1"  demanded  Mrs.  Gaillard 
of  an  aged  gray-headed  negro. 

"  Massa  Frank  gone  down  to  de  creek  fishin',"  was  the  reply. 

"  That  is  all.  I  am  very  glad  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Gaillard, 
addressing  those  in  the  carriage.  "  I  shall  have  time  to  con- 
verse with  him  before  he  is  aware  of  the  arrival  of  Miss  Ben- 
son." 

The  occupants  of  the  carriage  entered  the  mansion,  and  Miss 
Benson  was  speedily  shown  to  a  room  Miss  Gaillard  accom- 
panied her  thither,  and  as  she  assisted  her  to  change  her 
dress,  she  endeavored  to  soothe  the  agitation  of  the  stranger, 
and  to  give  her  every  encouragement. 

"  You  must  not  leave  your  room,  dear  Miss  Margaret,  until 
Mamma  has  had  a  serious  talk  with  our  gay  deceiver  of  a  bro- 
ther. I  have  never  seen  Mamma  so  decided  and  so  angry,'' 
said  Miss  Gaillard. 

"0,1  hope,  dear  Miss  Gaillard,  that  my  arrival  will  not  be 
the  means  of  causing  discord  in  your  peaceful  family.  If  I 
thought  so,  I  should  wish  I  had  never  left  New  York/'  replied 
Miss  Benson. 

"  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness.  If  there  is  a  storm  it  will 
soon  be  over,  and  a  clear  sky  will  follow.  I  pray  God  that  my 
brether  will  be  convinced  by  Mamma  of  the  necessity  of  doing 
what  is  right  in  this  unhappy  affair,"  replied  Miss  Gaillard. 

"  Amen,"  was  all  the  reply  that  Miss  Benson  could  make. 

A  few  moments  only  elapsed,  when  Mr.  Francis  Gaillard 
was  seen  coming  up  the  long  avenue  through  which  the  car- 
riage had  just  passed.  He  was  extremely  pale,  walked  very 
slow,  and  had  every  appearance  of  suffering  from  severe  ill- 
ness. His  mother  went  out  upon  the  piazza,  and  when  he  en- 
tered, cordially  embraced  him. 

"  Are  you  better,  my  son  ?" 

"  I  really  do  not  know.  I  think  I  am  stronger,  but  at  times, 
Mother,  I  get  discouraged,  and  feel  that  i  shall  never  be  any 

12* 


274  VIGOR. 

better.  But  what  has  brought  you  back  from  Charleston  in 
such  a  hurry  ?"  he  asked. 

"  That,  my  dear  son,  I  will  tell  you  presently.  Meanwhile, 
come  into  the  sitting-room,"  she  said  kindly. 

Young  Graillard  followed  his  mother,  and  they  were  alone. 
Mrs.  Graillard  spoke. 

"  Francis,  will  you  come  and  sit  down  by  me  ]" 

He  complied. 

11  Now  inform  me,  my  son,  of  every  fact  connected  with  your 
acquaintance  and  conduct  to  a  young  lady  in  New  York,  whose 
name  is  Margaret  Benson/' 

"  Mother,  what  do  you  know  about  her,,. and  why  do  you  ask 
me  for  information  ?"  asked  Francis,  excitedly. 

"  My  son,  answer  my  questions  as  if  you  were  in  the  pre- 
sence of  your  Grod.  But  for  her  attachment  to  you,  was  this 
young  lady  a  virtuous  girl  ?" 

"  As  the  fallen  snow.  I  only  led  her  into  sin,"  was  the 
honest  reply. 

"  Are  her  parents  of  respectability  ?"  asked  the  mother. 

"  Unquestioned.  Equal  to  my  parents  in  every  regard," 
replied  the  son. 

"  Then  how  could  you  be  so  base  as  to  ruin  her  ?" 

"  I,  Mother  1  But  why  should  I  deceive  you,  Mother  ?  I 
have  acted  like  a  rascal.  How  you  came  to  know  anything 
about  the  matter  I  will  not  stop  to  ask.  I  feel  the  deepest 
remorse  in  reference  to  that  young  lady.  If  ever  woman  loved 
man,  she  loved  me,"  was  the  truthful  reply  of  the  son. 

"  And  yet  you  could  deliberately  abandon  her  in  the  deli- 
cate situation  to  which  you  had  brought  her  1" 

"  I,  my  mother  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  asked. 

"  She  is  shortly  to  become  a  mother — a  mother  to  your  child  ! 

0  Frank,  Frank !"  said  the  mother. 

"  Mother,  I  will  return  to  New  York,  and  do  her  full  justice. 

1  will  marry  her,  if  she  will  consent   to  marry  such  a  wretch 
as  me,"  said  Francis. 

"  My  son,  she  is  here — in  this  house.  She  has  alone  fol- 
lowed you  on  from  New  York,  for  the  sake  of  her  child." 

"  Not  a  word  more,  mother.  I  will  see  her  at  once  ;"  and 
before  Mrs.  Graillard  could  arrest  his  speech,  Francis  Gaillard 
found  his  way  to  the  apartment  of  Miss  Benson.  The  meeting 
between  the  two  young  persons  was  affecting  in  the  highest 
degree.  Poor  Margaret,  when  she  listened  to  the  first  bursts 
of  repentant  words  from  Frank,  was  overwhelmed  with  happi- 
neas.  It  was  long  ere  she  could  find  words  to  reply  to  his 


VIGOR.  275 

extravagant  fondness.  "  Thank  God  tbat  you  had  the  nervo 
to  come  South,  dear  Margaret !  You  shall  not  regret  it.  I 
will  marry  you  without  any  delay,  and  at  least  the  little  one 
promised  to  us  shall  make  its  advent  under  more  auspicious 
circumstances  than  I  deserve.  Cheer  up  !  I  go  to  hold  coun- 
sel with  my  good-hearted  old  mother,"  exclaimed  the  lover. 

Frank  Gailiard  went  to  the  mother,  and  told  her  all  his  plans. 
She  listened  quietly, .and  finally  replied, 

"  My  son,  I  ain  rejoiced  at  discovering  a  disposition  on  your 
part  to  repair  the  wrong  that  you  have  committed  against  the 
peace  of  a  young  lady  of  such  respectability  ;  but  the  matter 
must  be  settled  quietly,  and  without  any  noise.  I  can  arrange 
yoar  marriage  so  that  no  question  will  ever  be  raised  in  regard 
to  the  legitimacy  of  your  child." 

The  old  lady  sent  a  note  to  Dr.  Wallace,  the  rector  of  tho 
Episcopal  Church,  within  a  few  miles  of  their  residence.  The 
ceremony  of  the  marriage  was  performed  that  evening.  A 
certificate  of  the  marriage  was  given,  and  a  corresponding  en- 
try made  in  the  record  book  of  the  Parish  Church.  What  mat- 
tered that  it  was  dated  six  months  earlier  than  the  day  when 
the  marriage  rites  were  celebrated  ?  It  ought  to  have  been 
celebrated  six  mouths  earlier,  and  who  should  ever  study  for 
proof  to  the  contrary  1  The  good  doctor  believed  he  was  do- 
ing right,  and  when  asked  for  a  duplicate  certificate,  he  wil- 
lingly gave  it. 

This  duplicate  Francis  Graillard  intended  to  send  to  Colonel 
Benson  with  an  explanatory  letter,  but  he  delayed  writing  it 
until  he  himself  should  go  to  Charleston.  Meanwhile,  the  fair 
Miss  Benson  was  presented  to  all  as  Mrs.  Francis  Gaillard. 
The  marriage  was  kept  a  profound  secret ;  no  one  of  the  do- 
mestics dreamed  of  such  a  thing.  The  only  witnesses  to  tho 
ceremony  were  the  mother  and  the  sister. 

Before  a  week  elapsed,  the  family  was  startled  by  another 
arrival.  They  were  just  sitting  down  to  dinner  when  a  car- 
riage drove  up  the  Live  Oak  Avenue.  It  contained  Colonel 
Benson.  He  sprang  out  of  the  carriage,  and  had  reached  the 
top  of  the  steps  leading  to  the  mansion,  when  his  daughter 
flung  herself  into  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  dear  Papa,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  and  so  will  my 
husband  be." 

"  Husband  !"  and  he  held  her  at  arm's  length  while  he  re- 
peated that  single  word  "  Husband  !" 

"  Yes,  dear  Papa.     Husband  ;   for  Mr.  Gaillurd  is   my  hus- 


27  ()  VIGOR. 

band,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  Papa,  but  not  now.     Here 
is  Frank." 

Mr.  Gaillard  offered  his  hand  to  Colonel  Benson.  It  was 
barely  touched  by  the  latter. 

"  When  I  hear  all,  perhaps  I  shall  be  more  cordial,"  he  ob- 
served, coldly. 

He  followed  his  daughter  and  her  husband,  and  then  was  in- 
troduced to  Madame  Gaillard.  If  the  latter  was  pleased  at 
meeting  the  stately  and  gentlemanly  father  of  her  daughter-in- 
law,  the  Colonel  was  no  less  pleased  with  the  magnificent  old 
lady,  the  mother  of  his  daughter's  husband. 

"  You  have  arrived  just  in  time  for  dinner,  Colonel  Benson. 
I  need  not  add  how  welcome  you  are,"  she  observed. 

"  Many  thanks,  dear  madam,  but  I  am  afraid  that  my  pres- 
ence here  has  occasioned  you  some  surprise.  I  confess  that  I 
arrived  here  with  far  different  purposes  than  to  eat  a  friendly 
dinner,"  said  Colonel  Benson. 

"  No  o*ne  could  be  more  welcome  than  the  father  of  my  son's 
wife.  I  hope  we  shall  be  able  to  make  your  visit  a  most 
agreeable  one,"  said  Mr.  Gaillard. 

"  The  first  words  spoken  by  my  child  have  relieved  my  mind 
of  a  load  of  agony  and  anxiety,"  replied  the  Colonel. 

An  excellent  dinner  was  partaken  of,  and  when  it  was  fin- 
ished Madame  Gaillard  advised  the  young  couple  to  go  and 
walk.  Then  she  dismissed  the  servants  in  attendance.  When 
she  was  alone  with  the  Colonel,  she  deliberately  requested  him 
to  listen  to  her  explanations.  She  informed  him  of  the  arrival 
of  his  daughter  in  Charleston,  and  her  surprise  and  anxiety  of 
her  bringing  his  daughter  home  and  the  marriage.  When  she 
spoke  of  the  maternal  situation  of  his  daughter,  the  Colonel  was 
dumbfounded.  Then  «he  told  him  of  the  delicate  manner  in 
which  the  marriage  had  been  managed,  and  handed  him  the 
marriage  certificate. 

"  It  will  probably  be  some  two  or  three  months  before  my 
daughter-in-law's  confinement.  Then  if  God  wills  that  no  acci- 
dent happens,  there  never  can  arise  cavil  or  flaw  in  the  pro- 
ceedings. Bear  in  mind,  Colonel  Benson,  that  we  had  to 
make  a  wrong  right,  and  out  of  evil  to  get  good.  I,  too,  am 
more  interested  in  having  our  large  possessions  go  to  an  un- 
questioned legal  descendant,  than  you  possibly  can  be.  Now, 
are  you  satisfied  ?" 

"  Madam,  I  have  no  words  to  express  my  gratitude.  If  I 
had  a  hundred  lives,  they  should  all  be  yours.  You  have  in- 


VIGOR.  277 

deed  acted  nobly,  generously,  and  how  can  I  repay  it  ?"  said 
Colonel  Benson,  warmly. 

"  Simply,  Colonel,  by  treating  your  son-in-law  and  your 
daughter  as  though  nothing  irregular  had  happened — make  no 
allusion  to  it.  The  parish  record  and  the  marriage  certificate, 
and  the  entry  of  the  birth  of  the  first  born  child  will  tell  all  the 
story  in  future  times,  should  it  ever  need  to  be  told.  Intro- 
duce the  bride  as  an  old  married  lady,  or  at  least  as  having 
been  married  so  many  months  ago  as  to  have  ceased  being  a 
novelty  to  talk  about,  and  the  world,  that  is  so  fond  of  scandal, 
need  have  nothing  to  say.  We  have  only  to  keep  our  own 
counsel.  The  members  of  my  family  will  keep  theirs.  When 
you  get  to  New -York,  an  equally  prudent  course  on  your  part 
will  be  productive  of  equally  happy  results,"  replied  Madame 
Gaillard. 

"  You  arc  a  lady  of  a  thousand.  I  agree  with  every  word 
you  have  uttered.  As  soon  as  I  reach  New  York,  I  will  give 
out  that  your  son  was  privately  married  to  my  daughter  before 
her  family  knew  any  thing  about  it,  and  that  the  young  lady 
followed  her  husband  to  the  South,  where  she  now  is." 

"  And  where,  Colonel  Benson,  she  must  remain  for  one  or 
two  years.  I  say  this  for  the  sake  of  the  child  that  I  hope  will 
prove  a  grandson,  and  be  a  blessing  to  my  old  age.  When  the 
babe  reaches  a  few  months  old,  then  my  daughter-in-law  can 
visit  the  North  with  safety,  so  far  as  important  questions  arc 
concerned." 

"  Again  you  are  right,  lady,"  observed  Colonel  Benson. 
"  And  I  must  add  that  few  parents  will  enjoy  a  sounder  and 
more  refreshing  sleep  than  I  shall  to-night.  My  mind  is  com- 
pletely at  ease.  I  have  been  extremely  worried  for  many 
days." 

"  I  can  readily  understand  that,  sir,  but  you  will  have  no 
further  cause  of  embarrassment.  My  son  is  rich,  and  Margaret 
has  made  a  good  match,  so  far  as  wealth  is  concerned.  My 
son  has  been  wild,  but  I  hope  that  will  pass  away,  and  that  he 
will  be  a  good,  kind  husband.  I  regret  to  say  that  his  health 
is  far  from  good  since  his  return  from  the  North,  and  there  are 
moments  when  my  fears  get  the  better  of  me.  We  must  hope 
for  the  best,"  said  the  mother. 

This  was  news  to  Colonel  Benson,  but  when  he  closely  exam- 
ined the  countenance  of  his  son-in-law,  and  contrasted  his 
present  feeble  appearance  with  what  he  had  know  him  in  New 
York,  he,  too,  partook  of  the  alarm,  and  suggested  to  the  elder 
Mrs.  Gaillard,  as  his  opinion,  that  medical  advice  of  a  high 


278  VIGOR. 

character  be  resorted  to  at  once.  Colonel  Benson  wrote  that 
evening  to  his  wife  in  New  York.  He  simply  informed  her 
thut  he  was  well,  and  that  Magaret  had  been  secretly  married 
to  Mr.  Gaillard,  and  that  she  was  quite  an  old  married  dame 
when  he  reached  her.  He  cautioned  his  wife  against  saying 
much  about  the  matter  until  his  return  to  New  York.  After 
despatching  this,  the  Colonel  felt  completely  happy,  and  gave 
himself  up  fully  to  his  enjoyment.  He  fished,  hunted,  and  rode 
about  the  neighborhood,  making  the  acquaintance  of  the  princi- 
pal planters  in  that  vicinity.  After  a  fortnight  spent  in  this 
manner,  he  could  not  be  contented  to  remain  longer,  but  took 
his  departure  for  Charleston,  and  from  thence  sailed  for  New 
York. 

After  the  departure  of  her  father,  the  young  wife  devoted 
herself  to  her  husband.  His  health  failed  daily,  but  still,  he 
was  not  regarded  as  in  great  danger.  It  was  resolved  that  he 
should  take  a  voyage  to  the  West  Indies,  but  the  interesting 
situation  of  his  lovely  wife  prevented.  Weeks  passed  away, 
and  then  she  gave  birth  to  a  child.  It  was  a  boy,  and  was 
christened  Francis  Benson  Gaillard.  When  Mrs.  Gaillard  had 
recovered  sufficient  strength,  after  her  confinement,  to  travel, 
it  was  discovered  that  Francis  could  not  make  a  journey,  and 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  remain  at  home  and  abide  the  fate, 
which  was  now  evident 

He  lived  but  a  few  weeks  after  the  birth  of  his  son,  and  then 
his  spirit  went  to  another  world,  and  his  wife  was  a  young 
widow. 


CHAPTER    XLVI1I. 

Editor  Bennett  of  the.  Herald  -Marion  filonckfalls  in  loi'e — A  boat  upsets — 
lie  Kives  his  own  life,  and  the  /*»>«••  of  hix  rotitfxinions  by  swi/iiminy  ashore 
• — Tim  Herald's  account  of  the  affair — Mr.  Jo/us,  the  father,  dtclin-s  all 
further  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Mt^nclc. 

IT  would  seem  almost  an  impossibility  for  Marion  Monck  to 
be  on  the  same  floor  with  the  editor  of  the  Herald,  and  in  the 
habit  of  meeting  and  conversing  with  him  every  day,  without 
imbibing  a  certain  quantity  of  the  spirit  that  animated  the 
editor  in  a  new  era  in  journalism 

On  one  occasion  he  had  been  traversing  an  upper  street  of 
the  city  when  he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  riot.  He  saw 
the  whole  of  it.  A  man  was  killed.  Marion  went  home,  and, 


VIGOR.  279 

as  it  was  a  matter  of  news  of  some  moment,  he  went  into  Mr 
Bennett's  room  and  narrated  the  whole  ot  it  to  him.  "  Excel- 
lent," said  the  editor.  "  I  am  really  much  obliged  to  you. 
Add  to  the  favor  by  writing  down  what  you  have  already  told 
me,  and  I  will  publish  it  in  the  morning's  issue.  It  will  make 
a  capital  article,  and  you  have  related  it  in  excellent  style." 

Marion  took  a  pen,  and  after  some  hesitation  wrote  an  account 
of  the  affair.  Mr.  Bennett  read  it  and  then  exclaimed,  "  Bah, 
what  trash  !"  fc 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  it,  Mr.  Bennett  ?" 

"  The  matter  is  that  you  have  not  written  it  at  all  as  you 
told  it.  You  have  attempted  to  improve  upon  it,  and  bungled 
it  all  up.  You  have  got  the  cart  before  the  horse.  As  you 
related  it  to  me  it  was  excellent.  This  writing  of  yours  is 
nonsense.  I  shall  have  to  write  it  all  over  again  from  my  own 
recollection  of  what  you  have  told  me,  in  ordej  to  make  a 
readable  article.  There  is  not  one  person  in  five  hundred  of 
those  who  claim  to  be  editors  or  writers,  that  can  write  an 
editorial  as  it  should  be  written.  An  editorial,  Master  Marion, 
should  have  a  beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end.  An  editorial 
should  have  an  object. — a  point.  If  a  man  happened  to  fall 
into  a  sink  because  there  was  no  cover  to  it,  and  an  editor 
wanted  to  call  the  attention  of  the  authorities  to  the  neglect, 
and  consequent  injury,  the  occurrence  of  the  man  falling  should 
be  related  plainly,  and  as  it  occurred  ;  then  state  the  danger  to 
others  from  this  neglect ;  and  lastly,  point  out  the  way  to  mend 
all  further  accidents  by  covering  the  hole  up  with  a  stone  or  a 
piece  of  marble  or  an  iron  top.  It  is  a  common  simile,  but  it 
answers  as  well  as  a  better  one.  You  write  what  a  shame  it  is 
that  rows  are  allowed  to  occur,  and  then  tell  that  a  row  has 
occurred,  and  a  man  has  been  killed.  But  don't  get  discour- 
aged ;  you  may  not  think  so,  but  one  day  you  will  be  able  to 
write  a  clever  editorial,  which  is  the  highest  style  of  composition 
known,"  said  Mr.  Bennett,  encouragingly. 

Such  conversations  frequently  occurred  between  the  editor 
and  Marion  Monck.  But  such  was  the  low  estimate  that  Marion 
had  at  that  time  of  the  destiny  of  the  Herald,  that  though  ho 
had  not  a  cent,  if  Mr.  Bennett  had  offered  him  an  equal  part- 
nership, he  would  have  declined  the  offer.  Marion,  however, 
did  not  underrate  the  ability  of  the  editor.  He  discovered 
then  that  clear-headed  ability,  that  careful  thought,  vivid 
imagination  and  ready  wit  which  has  since  been  developed,  but 
which  great  body  of  his  readers  have  never  given  Mr.  Bennett 
credit  for.  He  possessed  a  winning  way  with  young  people, 


280  VIGOR. 

and  had  a  happy  faculty  of  drawing  them  out.  Marion  was 
somewhat  susceptible  in  love  matters.  He  had  not  suffered 
quite  enough  with  the  affair  of  Miss  Isabella  Granville,  but 
some  months  after  became  violently  in  love  with  a  rich  bank- 
er's daughter.  The  name  of  the  father  was  Jones.  Marion  got 
introduced  to  her,  and  accompanied  her  to  church  on  one  or 
two  occasions.  The  father  was  excessively  pious,  and  so  was 
the  daughter.  The  old  Jones  abominated  theatres,  and  con- 
sidered a  Sabbath-breaker  as  out  of  the  pale  of  any  sort  of  sal- 
vation. Marion  was  on  the  free  list  of  almost  every  theatre, 
and  was  cheek  by  jowl  with  every  actor  and  actress  of  any  note 
upon  the  New  York  boards.  In  regard  to  the  Sabbath,  after 
the  acquaintance  commenced  with  Miss  Euphenia  Jones,  he 
was  very  regular  in  his  attendance  at  the  same  church  where 
she  worshipped.  Unfortunately,  on  one  occasion  three  young 
gentlemen  persuaded  him  to  accompany  them  in  a  White  Hail 
boat  to  a  place  in  the  lower  bay.  It  was  Sunday.  All  went 
on  very  well  until  they  attempted  to  return  to  the  city  in  the 
afternoon.  The  wind  came  out  from  the  north-west,  and  blew 
a  stiff  breeze.  It  was  night  before  they  beat  up  to  within  some 
distance  of  the  Narrows.  The  tide  was  at  ebb.  A  sudden  fl.»w 
of  wind  capsized  their  frail  boat,  and  they  were  all  immersed 
into  the  water.  All  succeeded  in  getting  upon  the  keel  of  the 
boat,  and  their  united  weights  sunk  down  the  boat  so  low  that 
the  water  nearly  reached  the  necks  of  these  young  men.  Upon 
comparing  notes  it  was  found  that  but  one  could  swim.  That 
one  was  Marion.  They  were  a  mile  or  two  from  the  shore,  and 
floating  out  rapidly  to  sea.  There  was  but  little  chance  of  be- 
ing picked  up  by  inward  bound  vessels,  for  the  wind  was 
ahead,  and  all  such,  of  course,  would  come  to  an  anchor.  Un- 
der these  appalling  circumstances,  Marion,  with  great  gal- 
lantry, offered  to  swim  ashore  and  get  aid.  One  of  the  young 
men  was  an  acquaintance  of  Marion's  new  flame.  His  name 
was  Robert  Knight,  and  his  uncle  was  governor  of  the  little 
State  of  Rhode  Island.  Marion  stripped  off  every  rag  of 
clothes,  and  after  he  had  bade  all  good  bye,  he  said  to  young 
Knight,  "  Bob,  dear  Bob,  should  I  be  drowned,  remember  me, 
for  God's  sake,  to  Phecney  Jones." 

After  a  terrible  time,  Marion  succeeded  in  reaching  the 
Long  Island  shore.  He  ran  up  directly  to  a  private  residence 
situated  high  up  on  the  shore.  He  forgot  his  nude  state,  and 
rushed  into  the  parlor,  where  the  family  were  congregated,  and 
among  them  a  number  of  young  ladies.  Their  screams  were 
fearful,  but  nothing  daunted,  Marion  seized  a  caudle-stick  and 


VIGOR.  2S1 

rushed  back  to  the  shore.  He  had  told  his  story,  and  luckily 
a  negro  overheard  and  understood  it.  He  asked  Marion  for 
particulars,  and  without  a  word  went  down  to  a  boat  belonging 
to  the  house,  and  rowed  off  to  rescue  the  sufferers.  He  was 
just  in  time,  and  he  succeeded  in  getting  all  into  the  boat, 
bringing  them  ashore  and  conveying  them  to  his  own  humble 
cottage.  Then  commenced  a  search  for  Marion.  They  found 
him  senseless  at  the  foot  of  a  cliff,  with  the  candle  and  caudle- 
stick  beside  him.  He  had  fallen  through  a  tree  which  grew  at 
the  foot  of  the  rock,  and  this  had  saved  his  life.  The  negro 
furnished  the  party  with  old  clothes,  and  at  midnight  they  left 
htm  and  walked  to  New  York.  It  was  near  daylight  when 
they  crossed  the  Fulton  ferry.  That  day  three  of  the  party 
took  a  carriage  and  went  down  to  the  spot.  They  fuund  the 
negro,  and  made  him  a  present  of  a  hundred  dollars  in  silver. 
Marion  contributed  his  share,  but  he  was  too  ill  to  go  with  his 
companions.  He  lay  upon  his  bed,  and  a  medical  man  was 
called  in.  The  affair  got  wind,  and  the  afternoon  papers  of 
that  day  had  a  long  article  upon  the  matter.  They  gave  credit 
to  Marion  for  his  gallantry  in  saving  the  lives  of  his  compan- 
ions, but  one  of  the  Journals,  the  '•  Commercial  Advertiser," 
stated  that  it  was  "  Sunday,"  and  that  God  would  have  acted 
perfectly  right  if  he  had  drowned  the  whole  party.  That  even- 
ing Mr.  Bennett  called  in  to  see  his  sick  friend  Marion,  and 
he,  too,  congratulated  him  upon  the  gallant  act. 

"  Curse  that  commercial  newspaper.  They  take  that  paper. 
Sunday.  My  cake  is  all  dough  now,"  exclaimed  Marion,  very 
petulantly. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  Tell  me  all  about  it.  I  will  put  it 
straight  in  my  paper  in  the  morning.  Let  ine  have  all  the 
facts,"  said  the  editor. 

Marion  narrated  them,  and  added,  "  Of  course  it  was  very 
natural,  that  with  a  good  show  for  being  drowned,  I  sent  a 
message  by  Bob,  in  case  he  got  picked  up,  to  Miss  Jones." 

"  She  ought  to  be  obliged  to  you,  very  much  so,"  said  the 
editor. 

The  next  morning  Marion  sent  out  early  to  get  a  Herald. 
When  he  opened  it,  there  was  the  article  headed  "  Narrow  Es- 
eape  from  Drowning.  Gallant,  Behavior  of  Marion  Monck." 
Marion  read  on — all  pleasant — praised  him  up — told  the  whole 
thing  pretty  fairly,  but.  all  at  once  his  face  became  a  foot  and  a 
half  long,  and  he  rushed  into  Mr.  Bennett's  room. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  1"  exclaimed  the  editor. 

14  You  have  ruined  me.     I  am  a   dead   man.     Look   here  :" 


282  VIGOR. 

and  he  read,  "  '  Bob,  dear  Bob,  should  I  be  drowned,  remember 
me,  for  God's  sake,  to  Phecney  Jones."1  That  is  my  death-war- 
rant." 

"  But  Marion,  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  Jones,  Pheeney 
Jones,  is  the  real  name  of  your  flame  ?" 

"  Of  course  it  is.  Old  Jones  the  banker's  daughter.  One 
of  the  vestry  of  Trinity  Church.  Sunday,  too  !  You  also  say 
that  I  was  '  engaged  and  shortly  t>  be  married  to  that  young 
female  to  whom  he  sent  a  dying  message.'  It  is  no  such  thing. 
O,  it  will  play  Ned  with  me  !" 

"  On  the  contrary,  my  dear  boy,  you  are  not  responsible  for 
what  appears  in  the  Herald.  You  don't  say  that  you  were 
engaged,  it  is  the  Herald  that  says  so.  Throw  the  blame  upon 
the  Herald.  As  for  Miss  Jones,  I  will  print  another  edition, 
and  say  it  was  Miss  Smith,  and  you  can  send  her  a  copy  ;  al- 
though I  think  she  ought  to  be  extremely  flattered  that  a  tal- 
ented fellow,  a  gallant  chap  like  you  should  think  of  her,  when 
he  expects  to  be  drowned  shortly,  eh  ?  Look  at  it  in  that  way." 

"  0,  that  is  all  very  fine,  Mr.  Bennett,  to  talk.  No  matter 
what  she  thinks.  If  it  had  been  any  other  day  than  Sunday, 
it  would  have  been  all  right.  But  her  lather — Jehu !  Sunday, 
eh  !  I'll  go  up  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Jones  this  evening,  and 
know  the  worst." 

Evening  came,  and  Marion  did  as  he  stated  he  would  do. 
He  went  around  to  Ann  street  to  the  Herald  office.  When  he 
saw  Mr.  Bennett,  the  latter  observed, 

"  Well,  Marion,  what  success  ?" 

"  I  could  not  get  in.  The  servant,  a  grinning  negro,  handed 
me  this  note.  Just  read  it." 

"  Taefday  Even  ng. 

"  SIR — I  have  to  beg  that  you  will  no  longer  consider  yourself  an  ac- 
quaintance of  mine  or  of  my  family,  and  I  have  given  orders  that  you 
never  be  admitted  inside  my  doors.  My  daughter  Euphenia  joins  me  in 
these  sentiments.  We  both'regard  you  as  a  Sabbath-breaker  of  the  worst 
kind.  The  Lord  evidently  kept  you  from  being  drowned  in  order  that 
you  may  repent.  Hoping  you  may  do  so 

I  am,  respectfully,  PETER  JONES." 

"  Of  course  you  will  publish  it.  Give  him  as  good  as  he 
sends.  Let  me  write  an  article  about  it.  He  will  regret  the 
longest  day  he  lives  that  he  ever  sent  you  that  note,"  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Bennett,  reaching  out  his  haiyl  for  the  note. 

"  O  Lord,  no  !  I  could  not  think  of  such  a  thing.  It  would 
ruin  me  with  the  girl." 

"  You  have  notliing  more  to  hope  for  in  that  quarter,  if  you 
put  up  with  such  a  thing.  It  is  a  shame — but  never  mind — if 


VIGOR.  283 

you  don't  choose  to  take  my  advice,  you  are  no  worse  off  for 
my  having  offered  it,"  said  Mr.  Bennett. 

It  was  in  those  days  actually  considered  a  horrible  matter  to 
get  into  a  newspaper.  Marion  so  regarded  it.  Not  so  Mr. 
Bennett.  He  regarded  those  matters  which  became  talked  of 
among  a  set  or  circle,  as  legitimate  articles  for  a  newspaper. 
So  they  were  ;  and  now,  that  the  ice  is  broken,  half  the  people 
in  the  land  are  only  too  anxious  to  get  their  names  into  the 
newspapers,  attached  to  anything.  All  seek  notoriety. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

Mrs.  Wil*on  has  a  Son — Wal'er  Granvilli  re turr  s  from    Pea  as  a    Sailor — 

Visit*  a  House  of  Bad    It-put-1..   'anJ.    metis    Mis<    Nnrr>s — Walter   h'is  a 

friend,  a  Sa-/or.  son  rf  a  Bank  Pits>d  n',  in  hi.t  Com^iny  -Hem-ets  Ros>. 

J3'irlcer — A  Kick  Scene—  Roliin^on  takes  her  out  of  the  ILuse — Walter  and 

Clara  aid  in  their  escape. 

MR.  and  Mrs.  Wilson  after  their  marriage  continued  to  re- 
side in  the  house  purchased  fur  Mrs.  Nordheiin  in  West  Wash- 
ington Place.  Mr.  Wilson  was  a  kind,  careful,  parental  sort 
of  husband,  and  every  day's  experience  convinced  the  wife 
that  she  had  acted  most  wisely  and  well  when  she  gave  her 
hand  to  the  worthy  book-keeper.  Nearly  a  year  elapsed  after 
the  marriage,  when  Mrs.  Wilson  presented  her  husband  with  a 
charming  boy.  The  birth  of  this  little  fellow  opened  a  new 
source  of  happiness  to  the  parents — he  was  a  new  bond  of  at- 
tachment, and  bound  their  hearts  together  closer  than  ever. 
When  the  little  fellow  was  about  two  months  old,  and  the 
strength  and  health  of  the  mother  was  fully  restored,  Mr.  Wil- 
son asked  his  beautiful  wife  if  she  would  be  pleased  if  he  gave 
up  business  altogether.  She  laid  her  babe  in  the  wicker  cra- 
dle, and  gazing  at  her  husband  a  moment,  said, 

"  Ah,  Wilson,  you  cannot  deceive  me.  You  have  a  motive 
for  asking  that  question,  but  I  will  answer  it  plainly.  I  wish 
you  would  give  up  business,  or  if  you  wish  to  do  business  to 
employ  your  time,  do  it  in  a  prudent  manner  and  in  your  own 
name." 

"  That,  wife,  is  precisely  what  I  am  coming  at.  But  it 
will  be  necessary  to  get  off  with  the  old  love  before  I  get  on 
with  the  new.  Things  are  prosperous  now.  The  house  of 
Granville  &  Wilson  have  made  money,  and  I  have  contrived 
under  various  pretences  to  withdraw  from  the  concern  a  con- 


2S4  VIGOR. 

siderable  amount  and  invest  it  in  securities  in  my  own  name. 
I  think  there  will  be  a  crash  in  the  commercial  world  before 
long,  but  by  submitting  to  some  extortion  I  think  I  can  gel 
out  of  the  concern  now,  with  the  capital  which  you  placed  in 
it  and  about  half  as  much  more  as  1  am  entitled  to  for  my 
share  of  the  profits.  I  can  also  make  Granville  cancel  or  se 
cure  me  for  all  outstanding  liabilities/'  observed  the  prudent 
"Wilson. 

"  Then,  my  dear,  do  so  as  speedily  as  possible.  I  am  a 
great  believer  in  luck,  and  there  is  none  where  Mr.  Granville 
is  concerned,"  said  the  wife. 

In  pursuance  of  this  understanding  between  the  husband 
and  wife,  Mr.  Wilson  proposed  to  Mr.  Granville  a  dissolution. 
He  made  it  in  such  a  way,  and  it  appeared  so  much  to  the  ad- 
vantage of  Mr.  Granville,  that  he  instantly  acceded  to  it — and 
thanks  to  the  good  financial  management  of  Mr.  Wilson,  the 
firm  were  in  a  situation  to  give  him  back  in  cash  all  that  he 
had  put  in,  and  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  for  his  share  of  the 
profits. 

Granville  knew  that  the  apparent  profits  were  four  times 
that  amount.  Mr.  Wilson  calculated  that  the  losses  for  the 
next  year,  under  more  unfavorable  circumstances,  would  eat 
up  all  the  profits.  Mr.  Granville  also  was  able  to  give  securi- 
ty for  the  outstanding  liabilities  of  the  concern,  and  Mr.  Wil- 
son signed  the  dissolution,  giving  the  closing  up  of  the  affairs 
to  Mr.  Granville. 

Thirty  days  made  Mr.  Wilson  free  from  all  further  respon- 
sibilities, and  he  retired  on  his  laurels,  and  devoted  his  whole 
time  to  the  wife  and  child.  The  cash  that  he  received  he  in- 
vested in  real  estate,  and  placed  it  in  the  name  of  his  wife. 
She  was  a  woman  who  could  appreciate  a  delicacy  like  this, 
but  she  made  no  comment  upon  it. 

From  the  very  day  that  Mr.  Wilson  withdrew  from  the  con- 
cern it  seemed  as  though  the  prosperity  of  Mr.  Granville  de- 
clined. He  met  all  his  liabilities  and  engagements  promptly, 
both  for  the  old  house  and  the  new,  and  every  month  Mr.  Wil- 
son re-transferred  to  his  old  partner  stocks  and  -other  securi- 
ties. 

Then  a  commercial  crisis  followed.  Mr.  Granville  seemed 
to  lose  money  by  every  operation.  He  had  done  a  very  heavy 
commission  business,  and  held  a  large  amount  of  business  pa- 
per, a  large  portion  of  which  was  protested  as  it  become  due. 
His  losses  were  tremendous,  but  he  bore  up  stoutly  under 
them  ;  and  although  he  lived  higher,  drank  a  great  deal  more 


VIGOR.  285 

than  usual,  and  relaxed  much  in  his  strict  business  habits,  yet 
he  appeared  to  hold  his  own,  and  his  commercial  credit  stooC 
unimpaired,  although  it  had  a  terrible  shaking.  He  felt  that 
he  had  consented  to  a  dissolution  too  hastily.  But  he  kept  a 
brave  heart,  and  was  not  a  man  to  be  moved  by  trifles.  He 
became  a  grandfather  too  of  a  fine  boy  about  the  time  that  Mr. 
Wilson  had  a  son.  This  son  of  his  daughter  Isabel  was  a  new 
source  of  pride  to  the  old  merchant. 

He  regretted  that  the  grandson  was  not  Walter's  child*,  so 
that  it  could  bear  his  own  honored  name  of  Granville.  Then 
the  proud  father  wondered  what  had  become  of  his  son — whe- 
ther he  was  dead,  or  would  ever  turn  up  again.  His  wonder- 
ment was  destined  to  be  solved,  but  in  a  manner  that  was  al- 
most a  deathblow  to  the  aristocratic  parent.  The  events  that 
led  to  this  discovery  we  will  narrate  as  briefly  as  possible. 

It  was  at  a  late  hour  one  Saturday  night  that  two  young  men 
applied  for  admittance  to  a  celebrated  house  of  ill-fame  in 
Church  street.  In  the  centre  of  the  door  were  some  iron  blinds 
about  the  size  of  an  ordinary  window  glass.  Through  these 
blinds  the  person  who  came  to  the  inside  surveyed  the  appli- 
cants for  admission. 

"  Who  do  you  wish  to  see  ?"  was  the  query  of  the  female 
doorkeeper. 

"  Some  of  the  young  ladies,"  was  the  reply,  in  a  manly  tone 
of  voice. 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  any  of  them  ?"  was  asked. 

"  No,  madam,  we  are  strangers  ;  we  know  no  one  in  the 
house,  and  have  just  arrived,"  was  the  reply. 

"  You  are  not  rowdies  anyhow,  and  I  will  let  you  in." 

The  parties  entered,  and  the  door  was  again  closed,  locked, 
bolted,  and  securely  chained,  as  is  the  ordinary  but  prudent 
custom  of  such  houses. 

The  girl  took  a  good  look  at  the  two  persons  she  admitted. 
They  were  both  draped  in  the  garb  of  the  better  class  of  sail- 
ors, yet  they  appeared  to  be  gentlemen.  Probably  they  had 
disguised  themselves  in  this  manner  for  a  lark,  thought  the 
girl — and  her  survey  being  satisfactory,  she  observed, 

"  Both  of  the  parlors  are  occupied.  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
show  you  into  Miss  Clara's  parlor,  and  then  I  will  send  some 
of  the  young  ladies  into  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  one  of  the  persons.  He  was  much 
stouter  than  his  companion,  who  addressed  him  as  "  Walt." 
His  countenance  was  large  and  open  ;  his  teeth  when  he 
laughed  were  exposed,  and  white  as  ivory.  His  laugh  was 


286  VIGOR. 

merry  and  hearty,  and  the  smile  which  accompanied  it  would 
have  won  any  woman's  heart.  He  appeared  to  have  been  a 
sailor.  His  face  was  bronzed,  evidently  from  exposure,  and 
his  dark  hair,  which  hung  long  about  his  face,  appeared  not  to 
have  been  cut  in  a  long  while.  He  was  very  stoutly  built, 
broad  across  the  shoulders  and  chest,  and  he  looked  like  a 
youth  that  it  would  not  be  safe  to  trifle  with.  The  younger  of 
the  two  was  called  Harry  Robinson  ;  he  was  not  so  stout  as 
his  companion,  but  evidently  was  not  a  common  sailor  ;  his 
language  was  equally  correct  as  his  friend  Walter. 

The  girl  conducted  the  new  comers  into  a  small  but  exquis- 
itely furnished  parlor.  There  was  a  piano  in  it,  and  also  a 
guitar.  Several  choice  paintings  adorned  the  walls,  and  an 
elegant  sofa  was  in  one  corner  ;  there  was  a  door  which  opened 
to  a  room  in  the  rear.  Harry,  as  he  was  called,  tried  to  open 
it,  to  see  where  it  led  to  ;  it  was  fast.  Both  persons  took  oiF 
their  hats,  placed  them  upon  the  centre  table  near  a  superb 
astral,  when  they  entered  the  room. 

The  guitar  seemed  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  one  called 
"  Walt." 

He  took  it  up  and  struck  a  few  notes. 

"  The  best  guitar  I  have  touched  in  a  long  while — I  wonder 
who  plays  it,"  he  asked  as  the  girl  who  opened  the  door  to  ad- 
mit them  entered  the  room. 

"  That  belongs  to  Miss  Clara,"  replied  the  girl. 

"  Shall  we  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Miss  Clara  ?"  asked 
Walter. 

"  No,  sir,  Miss  Clara  does  not  see  company.  She  has  this 
parlor  and  the  sleeping  room  attached,  and  is  a  private  board- 
er," said  the  girl. 

Walter  had  commenced  playing  while  the  girl  wr.s  talking 
— and  when  she  had  finished  he  sung  a  Spanish  love  song,  ac- 
companied by  the  guitar. 

The  girl  stopped  and  listened.  Walter  finished,  and  then 
ordered  a  bottle  of  champagne,  adding, 

"  Where  is  this  Miss  Clara,  into  whose  parlor  we  have 
been  intruding  ?" 

The  girl  replied  that  Miss  Clara  was  in  one  of  the  main  par- 
lors,  amusing  herself. 

She  was  interrupted  by  a  sweet  musical  voice — 

"  Miss  Clara  is  here  to  speak  for  herself,  and  to  ask  who  is 
playing  her  guitar  with  such  unusual  good  taste,"  and  at  the 
same  time  one  of  the  most  beautiful  visions  burst  into  the  par- 
lor that  Walter  had  seen  in  many  months.  Her  long  auburn 


VIGOR.  287 

• 

tresses  fell  in  ringlets  that  reached  behind  her  waist.  Sho 
was  dressed  in  white,  and  not  a  single  ornament  of  jewelry 
was  about  her.  Her  face  was  beautiful,  and  her  figure  per- 
fect. Both  of  the  young  men  arose  and  uttered  exclamations 
of  delight.  She  noticed  but  one  of  them.  From  the  momeut 
she  entered  the  room  her  gaze  was  fixed  upon  Walter. 

"  Fair  lady,"  he  observed,  "  we  owe  you  an  apology  for  thus 
intruding  into  your  apartments,  and  I  for  touching  this  pri- 
vate property — but  the  girl  is  to  blame  for  showing  us  in  here, 
and  I  must  apologize  for  touching  the  guitar,"  observed  Wal- 
ter respectfully. 

The  lady  gazed  at  him,  but  for  some  moments  did  not  reply 
a  word,  but  took  a  seat  on  the  sofa.  Walter  then  resumed  his 
seat,  and  she  took  his  hand,  and  still  continued  to  examine  his 
features.  At  last  she  appeared  to  be  satisfied  with  her  close 
examination,  and  a  peculiar  smile  played  for  a  moment  upon 
her  fascinating  mouth. 

"  Miss  Clara,  I  hope  you  will  know,  me  again  when  you  see 
me,"  said  Walter. 

"  I  know  you  now,  if  T  am  not  mistaken,"  said  Clara. 

"  Indeed  I  do  not  remember  having  ever  had  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  you  before,"  replied  Walter — "  in  fact  I  have  been 
away  from  New  York  some  years,"  he  continued. 

At  this  moment  the  girl  entered  and  announced  that  one  of 
the  parlors  was  empty,  and  that  Miss  .Brown  wished  the  party 
to  adjourn  to  the  principal  parlor. 

"  I  have  taken  the  wine  there,"  paid  the  girl. 

"  That  is  perfectly  right,"  Clara  replied.  "  Show  that  gen- 
tleman (pointing  to  Harry)  into  the  parlor.  I  will  follow  with 
one  who  plays  the  guitar.  I  want  to  ask  him  one  or  two  ques- 
tions £0  at  once." 

The  girl  left  the  room  with  the  young  man,  and  as  soon  as 
they  were  gone  and  she  was  alone  with  Walter,  she  locked  the 
door  of  the  parlor,  then  passed  to  the  other  door,  and  took  a 
key  from  the  pocket  of  her  dress,  and  opened  it. 

"  Look  in  here,  Master  Sailor,"  she  added. 

Walter  came  to  her  side  as  she  stood  in  the  open  door,  and 
there  he  discovered  a  sleeping  apartment  fitted  up  equal  to 
any  room  in- a  palace.  The  bed  was  a  lofty  one,  with  fine 
carved  posts,  and  was  one  that  a  king  would  have  been  satis- 
fied with 

Walter  glanced  .over  the  apartment,  remarking  as  he  did  so, 

"  I  have  never  seen  an  apartment  for  sleeping  more  exquis- 
itely furnished." 


288  VIGOR. 

« 

He  looked  for  a  moment  at  the  loveliness  by  his  side,  and 
sighed. 

"  What  is  that  sigh  for,  and  what  is  your  name  ?" 

"  Walter — and  I  drew  a  sigh  thinking  what  a  happy  man  he 
would  be  who  could  occupy  that  apartment,  and  have  as  a  com- 
panion its  beautiful  owner,"  was  the  gallant  answer. 

"  Indeed  !  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Walter,  that  I  am  not  one  of 
the  girls  belonging  to  this  house  ?"  asked  Clara. 

"  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  it — and  don't  suppose  that  I,  a 
poor  devil  of  a  sailor  just  off  from  four  years'  cruising  at  sea, 
had  formed  any  idea  that  I  could  have  so  much  happiness," 
said  Walter. 

"  Answer  me  some  questions.  You  came  here  to-night,  you 
and  your  friend,  to  see  each  a  young  fady  1" 

"  I  confess  we  did,"  was  the  reply. 

"  This  is  a  somewhat  expensive  establishment — are  you 
aware  of  it  ?"  asked  Miss  Norris. 

"  I  am  ;  but  we  are  not  without  some  funds.  We  were  paid 
off  to-day,  and  what  we  order  we  can  pay  for,"  said  Walter, 
with  some  pride. 

"  Now,  Master  Walter,  let  me  say  to  you  that  your  friend,  or 
you,  if  you  had  a  thousand  dollars,  could  not  enter  these  pri- 
vate apartments  of  mine,  but >r , 

"  I  am  aware  of  it — perfectly  aware  of  it.  Let  us  go  iutc 
the  parlor,"  said  Walter. 

"  In  one  moment.  Look  at  me,  Walter.  We  will  go  into 
/he  parlor.  You  shall  see  all  the  young  ladies  in  the  house — 
some  are  exquisitely  beautiful.  If  you  do  not  see  any  that  you 
can  admire  or  desire  for  a  companion  until  to-morrow  morning, 
then,  on  one  condition,  I,  my  poor  humble  self,  will  be  your 
slave.  You  shall  be  lord  and  master  of  the  apartments  and 
my  person  at  your  disposal  on  one  condition,"  and  as  she  said 
this,  she,  like  a  true  Oriental,  flung  herself  upon  her  knees, 
and  took  Walter's  hand  and  kissed  it  reverently. 

"  Why,  I  should  be  the  happiest,  luckiest  dog  in  existence. 
But  you  can't  mean  it,  and  what  is  the  condition  ?"  asked  Wal- 
ter. 

"  That  the  word  money  is  not  used  between  us.  You  shall 
not  even  pay  for  the  bottle  of  wine  that  you  have  ordered,  nor 
for  others  that  I  shall  order.  You  shall  go  into  the  parlor,  see 
all  the  beauties  of  the  establishment — play — sing  — dance,  and 
amuse  yourself  until  you  are  tired  ;  then,  when  you  whisper 
that  to  me,  I  will  leave  the  room  and  have  you  conducted  in 
here.  We  will  pass  the  night  as  pleasantly  as  we  can.  We 


VIGOR.  289 

will  have  a  choice  breakfast  ready  in  my  parlor  when  we  get 
up,  and  after  you  have  partaken  of  that  with  me,  then  you 
shall  go  wherever  you  please  ;  but  the  word  money — or  pay — 
or  compensation,  is  not  to  be  used  by  you.  If  you  forget  your 
promise,  I  will  leave  you  in  an  instant,"  said  Clara  Norris. 

"  Am  I  awake  1  or  do  I  dream  ?  Lady,  I  accept  the  condi- 
tion," said  Walter. 

Clara  flung  herself  upon  his  manly  breast,  and  he  was  not 
backward  in  holding  her  tightly  in  his  powerful  embrace,  while 
he  feasted  upon  her  soft,  dewy  lips.  He  was  losing  all  control 
of  himself,  when  she,  with  her  face  crimsoned  with  blushes, 
broke  away  from  him  laughing,  and  as  she  unlocked  and  flung 
open  her  parlor  door,  said,  '•  Come,  my  lord  and  master,  I  can- 
not permit  you  to  be  naughty.  You  have  a  long  night  before 
you,  and  you  must  see  all  the  beauties  of  this  house  before  you 
will  be  able  to  decide  whether  you  will  accept  my  offer.  Not 
a  word  more." 

They  entered  one  of  the  main  parlors  arm  in  arm,  and  Clara 
crossed  the  room  and  presented  Blaster  Walter  to  Mrs.  Julia 
Urowu,  the  proprietor  of  the  establishment.  Walter  bowed  to 
a  magnificent  woman,  who  was  "  fair,  fat  and  forty."  He  then 
seated  himself,  and  for  a  moment  was  lost  in  amazement.  In 
different  parts  of  the  room  were  eight  or  more  of1  the  most  ex- 
quisitely beautiful  girls  he  had  ever  laid  his  eyes  upon.  Some 
were  not  over  fifteen,  or  at  most  seventeen  years  of  age.  One 
•was  presiding  at  the  piano,  playing  a  waltz,  while  two  others 
were  waltzing  with  grace  and  elegance.  All  were  dressed 
costly,  but  with  exquisite  taste.  Walter  had  read  of  Turkish 
harems  and  voluptuous  Circassian  and  Georgian  beauties,  but 
here  he  fancied  that  it  was  realized.  The  wine  was  passing 
freely,  and  Walter  noticed  that  his  friend  had  made  no  special 
acquaintance.  He  went  up  and  spoke  a  few  words  to  him. 
Henry  made  no  reply  except  "  Is  is  possible  V  and  then  looked 
at  Clara,  who,  amid  all  this  galaxy  of  beauty,  was  partly  re- 
clining upon  the  sofa,  the  most  beautiful  among  the  beautiful. 
Her  eye  met  Walter's  and  it  seemed  to  say,  "  Are  you  satisfied 
that  I  am  peerless  here  ?" 

Henry  asked  Walter  a  question,  and  directed  his  attention 
to  a  young  and  lovely  creature  that  scarcely  seemed  to  be 
twelve  years  old.  Her  cheeks  were  like  roses,  and  her  hair, 
which  was  in  long  clustering  curls,  seemed  to  cover  her  little 
figure  as  a  black  cloud.  Walter  went  and  spoke  to  Clara,  who, 
aughing,  said,  "  Oh,  that  is  my  sweet  rose.  I  am  very  glad 

13 


290  VIGOR. 

that  your  friend  has  made  so  good  a  choice.  I  will  introduce 
him." 

She  went  across  the  room  to  the  young  girl,  brushed  away 
the  dark  masses  of  hair  from  her  face,  talked  with  her  a  little 
while,  and  then  beckoned  to  Henry  Robinson.  He  crossed  the 
room  directly.  "  Henry,  this  is  Rose,  a  little  rose  that  was 
plucked  away  down  in  the  State  of  Maine,  at  a  place  called 
Bangor,  not  many  months  ago.  She  has  a  loving  heart,  and  is 
not  very  well  suited  for  this  house.  She  is  very  low  spirited 
to-night.  You  must  be  responsible  for  her  cheerfulness,"  and 
addressing  Rose,  "  In  the  morning,  you  and  Mr.  Henry  come 
and  get  breakfast  in  my  parlor.  Then  the  two  friends  can 
leave  together." 

Rose  raised  her  beautiful  gazelle  eyes.  "  You,  Miss  Clara 
— you — you — his  friend — why,  I  thought  you  never  " 

Clara  placed  her  finger  on  the  Maine  girl's  lips.  "  Yea 
Rose,  I  am  in  love  with  his  friend.  I,  the  haughty  Clara. 
Now  don't  say  any  more.  Grood-night,  both  of  you,"  and  she 
crossed  to  the  sofa,  and  Walter  took  a  seat  by  her  side. 

"  Don't  you  think  that  Rose  is  exquisitely  beautiful,  Wal- 
ter ?"  asked  Clara. 

"  I  don't  think — look — or  care  for  but  one  in  this  room.  I 
believe  I  am  getting  crazy.  That  is  you,  Clara," — and  as  he 
pressed  his  arm  around  her  small  waist,  her  exquisitely  shaped 
head  fell  upon  his  breast.  For  some  time  they  sat  and  listened 
to  the  music.  Meanwhile,  Rose  and  Henry  had  left  the  par- 
lor, the  former  crossing  and  wishing  his  companion  good-ni^ht. 
When  they  reached  the  sleeping-room  of  Rose,  Heoj-y  found  a 
large  room,  luxuriously  furnished,  and  a  sofa,  upon  which  Rose 
flung  herself. 

"  Lock  the  door  and  come  and  tell  me  all  about  yourself — 
where  you  have  been,  who  you  are,  what  brought  you  here  to- 
night. What  magic  your  friend  Walter  has,  to  be  accepted  by 
Clara,  who  never  sees  company,  except  it  be  some  very  rich, 
private  friend,  although  she  frequently  goes  into  the  parlor. 
Tell  me  every  thing,  and  perhaps  I  will  love  you,  if  you  will," 
exclaimed  Rose,  in  almost  the  accents  of  a  little  school-girl. 

Henry  took  her  up  in  his  arms  as  if  she  had  been  a  child, 
and  then  related  to  her  that  he  and  Walter  had  been  sent  off  on 
a  whaling  voyage,  that  both  their  fathers  were  gentlemen,  that 
flung  together  in  this  way  they  had  become  very  fondly  at- 
tached, and  that  four  years  had  elapsed  since  they  went  away. 

"  How  Walter  has  fascinated  Clara,  I  don't  know.     We  only 


VIGOR.  291 

landed  to-day,  and  after  getting  some  thing  to  eat,  we  came 
here.  That  is  all,  my  little  rose-bud,  that  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Harry  is  not  a  pretty  name.  Henry  is  better.  How  I  do 
hate  this  house  !  I  wish  I  never  had  entered  it.  But — heigho 
— it  can't  be  helped.  You  are  the  first  person  that  has  ever 
entered  my  room  that  I  did  not  detest  in  five  minutes,"  said 
Rose. 

"  Why,  how  is  that  7"  asked  Harry. 

"  You  have  treated  me  as  if  I  were  a  young  lady.  You  held 
me  in  your  arms  as  my  brothers  once  used  to  do,  and  you  have 
not  once  taken  advantage  of  my  position.  I  feel  very  different 
to  you  from  what  I  ever  have  done  to  visitors  at  this  house." 

Rose  had  met  one  who  had  sisters  of  his  own  equally  beau- 
tiful as  she.  The  next  morning,  when  she  and  Harry  Robin- 
son entered  the  parlor  to  take  breakfast,  she  blushed  like  a 
young  bride  who  receives  congratulations  the  morning  after  her 
wedding  night.  She  attracted  the  attention  of  Clara,  who  ex- 
claimed, "  Why,  you  little  silly  chit.  Take  care  you  and  Mas- 
ter Harry  don't  get  in  love,  or  you  will  have  Mistress  Brown 
about  your  ears.  She  has  no  objection  to  her  girls  making 
money,  but  she  don't  like  to  have  them  fall  in  love.  Take 
care," — and  she  shook  her  head  menacingly. 

Harry  Robinson  then  observed,  "  Miss  Clara,  we  wish  you 
to  be  our  friend.  1  want  to  take  Rose  out  of  this  sort  of  busi- 
ness. She  wants  to  leave  it,  too." 

"  Treason,  treason  to  good  Julia  Brown.  Why,  you  foolish 
child,  where  will  you  go  ?" 

"  I  will  fix  that  somehow,  if  I  can  only  get  her  out  of  this. 
I  have  got  a  pocket-book  pretty  well  lined,  ain't  it,  Walter  ? 
She  says  she  owes  Julia  Brown  some  money,"  remarked  Rob- 
inson. 

"  How  much,  Rose  dear  ?"  demanded  Clara. 

"  She  told  me  thirty  dollars  last  night,  when  I  refused  to 
talk  with  that  drunken  gambler,  and  she  scolded  me  until  I 
cried,"  replied  Rose. 

"  She  shall  go  with  you  if  I  have  to  have  a  quarrel  with  her. 
Take  the  poor  child  out  of  the  house,  Harry,  und  you  will  never 
regret  so  good  a  deed.  Ask  her  out  to  walk  when  you  go. 
Then  take  her  to  a  hotel  in  the  Bowery,  called  the  North 
American.  Go  boldly  in,  and  enter  your  names  as  man  and 
wife.  Walter  will  go  and  see  you  to-morrow  night,  and  when 
Mrs.  Brown  finds  that  you  have  escaped  her  clutches,  she  will 
be  very  glad  to  give  me  your  wearing  apparel  and  trunks,  and 
I  will  pay  her  all  of  her  demands.  Now  eat  your  breakfasts, 


292  VIGOR. 

and  then  you,  Rose,  go  and  get  on  such  clothe-!  as  will  answer 
your  purpose  until  to-morrow.  Make  up  a  small  bundle  of 
your  night-clothes,  and  carry  them  in  your  hind  Mrs.  Brown 
will  not  be  up  for  two  hours.  I  will  let  you  out  of  the  house, 
and  Robinson,  may  God  curse  you  if  you  ever  desert  that  little 
thing,  or  allow  her  ever  to  get  into  a  house  of  this  kind  again," 
exclaimed  Clara  Norris,  earnestly. 

"  She  never  shall,  if  I  can  help  it,"  and  the  young  sailor 
meant  what  he  said. 

The  breakfast  was  finished  somewhat  hurriedly,  for  Rose 
was  somewhat  anxious.  Then  she  got  ready.  Clara  walked 
to  the  door,  and  quietly  undid  the  fastenings.  Henry  Robin- 
son and  Rose  Banker  followed,  and  in  a  moment  were  outside 
— free  in  the  street.  Clara  carefully  fastened  the  street  door, 
and  returned  to  her  own  apartments. 

"Who  knows,  Walter,  but  that  a  human  soul  is  saved? 
What  a  time  I  shall  have  with  Madume  Julia!  Now,  dear 
Walter,  have  you  thought  over  what  I  have  proposed  ?  And 
have  you  made  up  your  mind,  sfter  the  most  mature  delibera- 
tion, to  accept  my  proposition  ?"  exclaimed  Clara. 

Before  I  "give  the  replies  of  Walter  to  those  questions,  I 
must  make  a  few  explanations.  Clara  Norris  had  often  seen 
Walter  Granville,  and  knew  his  features  well  at  the  time  she 
was  the  mistress  of  Mr.  Nordheitn.  She  had  seen  him  at  the 
theatre,  had  seen  him  with  Miss  Madison  Pinckney  ;  and  al- 
though he  had  grown  older  and  more  inanly  in  appearance,  yet 
there  was  no  very  great  change  in  the  young  boy  she  had 
known,  and  the  young  man  she  found  in  her  parlor  on  the  night 
that  Walter  came  off  from  the  ship.  She  knew  him  at  once. 
Walter  did  hot  know  her — did  not  know  her  name  even.  Of 
course,  his  female  relations  never  allowed  it  to  pass  their  lips, 
and  his  father  or  his  father's  friends  and  clerks  were  not  likely 
to  talk  with  him  upon  such  a  subject — one  which  affected  the 
moral  character  of  his  father's  partner.  Consequently  when 
he  met  Clara  Norris  in  her  parlor,  he  was  ignorant  of  her  per- 
son or  of  her  name  and  antecedents.  He  was  extremely  flat- 
tered to  find  in  an  expensive  house  of  its  kind  a  beautiful  wo- 
man, evidently  flattered  with  his  appearance — the  more  flat- 
tered, as  she  was  of  a  higher  grade  than  the  regular  residents 
of  the  mansion,  and  not  dependent  upon  prostituting  her  per- 
son for  a  livelihood.  She  was  beautiful — far  more  charming 
than  any  of  the  others,  and  placed  herself  at  his  disposal  for 
love — certainly  it  was  not  for  money,  for  she  made  it  a  condition 
of  her  love  and  favor  that  money  should  not  be  offered  her. 


VIGOR.  293 

Walter  was  vain  at  heart,  and  not  supposing  Clara  knew  any- 
thing about  him  or  his  family-friends,  ha  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  she  loved  him,  and  he  entered  the  luxurious  trap 
without  a  thought  of  danger,  and  supposed  that  when  break- 
fast was  over  in  the  morning  he  would  probably  never  see  her 
again. 

But  what  were  the  thoughts  of  the  gifted  syren,  who  had  so 
adroitly  flung  her  auburn  meshes  around  young  Walter  ?  Love  ! 
She  had  no  more  love,  than  would  naturally  arise  towards  a 
handsome,  vigorous  youth,  who  had  been  absent  on  a  long 
voyage,  and  who  had  found  in  her  the  first  female  who  was  to 
respond  to  his  caresses.  But  she  had  deeper  and  more  dan- 
gerous designs  ;  and  she  no  sooner  was  satisfied  that  the  run- 
away son  of  Pitt  Granville  was  before  her,  than  her  mind  was 
decided  to  have  him  at  all  costs  and  at  all  sacrifices.  The  first 
step  was  to  place  him  under  obligations  to  her. 

When  Henry  Robinson  and  Hose  had  left  the  parlor,  Clara 
waited  a  short  timo,  and  then  whispered  to  Walter, 

"  Do  you  see  any  that  you  can  love  better  than  me  ?'' 

A  loving  kiss,  and  a  whispered  "  No,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Follow  me  then  ;"  and  she  sprang  up  and  went  to  her  par- 
lor. Walter  entered  with  her,  and  fastened  the  door. 

"  O,  what  will  become  of  mo,  dear  Walter  ?  I  am  madly  in 
love  with  you  !  I  feared  that  you  might  see  some  ona  that  you 
would  like  better  than  me,  and  I  have  been  dreadfully  alarm- 
ed  ;"  and  she  flung  her  arms  around  him.  "  I  am  fainting — 
undress  me  and  lay  me  on  the  sofa  !  What  can  you  think  of 
me  ?" 

Walf-3r  was  flattered  in  the  worst  manner.  He  did  help  her 
to  undress,  and  there  was  revealed  to  him  charm?  that  would 
have  tempted  Saint  Anthony.  He  was  frenzied  ;  but  the  art- 
ful girl  was  perfectly  herself.  She  had  her  purpose. 

"  How  dare  you  attempt  such  liberties  !"  and  she  assumed  a 
sterner  air.  "  I  do  love  you,  but  I  know  nothing  of  you.  I 
am  a  fool !  Here  you  are,  a  strange  sailor  in  my  room,  and  I 
almost  naked  !  What  is  there  about  you  that  has  so  fascinated 
me  ]  Don't  dare  to  take  a  liberty  with  nu  !  Now  tell  mo  all 
about  yourself.  Who  are  you  ?  Where  do  you  belong  ?  If 
you  will  tell  me  the  truth,  that  moment  I  will  let  you  carry  ino 
in  yonder  ;"  and  she  pointed  to  the  sleeping  apartment,  the 
door  of  which  was  opened.  "  If  you  do  not,  you  shall  go. 
You  are  dressed,  and  I  will  opon  th  it  door  and  call  help,  but 
you  shall  leave  me.  Now  kneel  dowu  by  in?,  and  tell  me  all." 
Walter  was  nearly  mad — frantic  with  the  arts  of  this  syren. 


294  VIGOR. 

He  commenced  and  gave  her  his  name,  his  history,  the  name 
of  his  father,  in  fact  everything  that  he  knew.  Clara  listened 
attentively.  She  knew  it  all  before.  She  knew  more  than 
Walter  did,  for  there  were  many  things  about  his  own  family 
that  he  did  not  know.  She  did  not  offer  to  tell  him  these,  but 
said, 

"  Dear  Walter,  I  am  not  such  a  mad  fool  as  I  thought  I  was. 
You  are  a  gentleman,  and  that  is  why  I  loved  you  from  the 
first.  Now  I  am  yours — do  what  you  please  with  me." 

Her  object  was  achieved,  and  she  gave  way  to  all  her  fiery 
and  fierce  passions,  which  had  been  so  thoroughly  aroused  by 
the  young  sailor.  As  he  lay  clasped  in  her  arms,  could  he  have 
known  her  secret  thoughts — her  feelings  of  gratified  revenge  ! 
There  was  a  light  in  her  sleeping  apartment.. 

"  0,"  thought  Clara  Norris,  "  could  old  Granville  only  know 
this  !  His  son — my  partner  !  It  is  a  sweet  revenge  !  Tom, 
too,  who  has  abused  me  so — where  is  his  loved  nephew  ? 
Here  in  my  arms — the  abused,  neglected,  insulted  Clara  Nor- 
ris— whom  I  am  binding  to  me  by  chains  stronger  than  those 
of  father,  sister,  uncle  or  friend.  Beautiful  Isabel,  that  has 
insulted  me  wherever  we  have  met,  where  is  that  manly,  lov- 
ing brother,  that  you  would  give  almost  your  life  to  see  once 
more  !  Where  is  he  ? — here  in  my  arms — pillowed  on  the 
bosoin  of  Clara  Norris  !  0,  this  is  delicious,  exquisite  re- 
venge !"  And  with  such  feelings  in  her  bosom — her  worst 
passions,  lust,  hate  and  revenge  all  being  gratified,  she  passed 
a  sleepless  night. 

The  next  morning  she  met,  as  we  have  related,  Henry  and 
Rose.  She  had  done  apparently  a  good  act,  but  it  was  to  bind 
the  friend  of  Walter  to  her  more  closely,  that  she  had  assisted 
in  his  running  off  Rose. 

When  they  had  departed,  Walter  spoke  of  leaving. 

"  Indeed,  sir,  you  shall  do  no  such  thing.  You  are  my 
prisoner.  You  shall  not  leave  this  house  nor  this  room  this 
day  of  our  Lord.  It  is  Sunday,  and  you  shall  worship  here. 
Besides,  you  have  told  me  your  history,  and  now  you  shall  fol- 
low my  advice  before  you  see  any  of  your  friends  or  your 
parent.  I  have  no  doubt  I  can  help  you  to  be  reconciled  with 
your  father.  You  are  independent.  You  need  ask  no  favors. 
See  here." 

She  showed  him  a  large  amount  of  gold,  and  bank  bills  of  a 
large  denomination. 

"  That  is  all  yours,  my  dear  Walter,  if  you  need  it.  I  don't 
love  by  halves,  and  I  don't  know  but  that  I  shall  invite  you  to 


VIGOR.  295 

go  up  in  the  country,  where  I  own  a  farm,  and  spend  a  week 
there.  What  do  you  think  of  it,  dear  Walter  ?" 

"  I  will  go  anywhere  with  you — to  the  devil,  if  you  say  the 
word,"  replied  Walter. 

"  We  will  see  your  friend  and  Rose  settled,  and  then  we  will 
go,"  observed  Clara. 

"  Will  you  see  Harry  all  snug  with  his  woman?" 

"  What  is  his  name  ?"  asked  Clara. 

"  Henry  Robinson,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Is  his  father  the  rich  judge  of  that  name  ?" 

The  same.  That  is  his  father  is  Chancellor  of  the  State," 
replied  Walter. 

Walter  remained  all  day  in  that  house. 


CHAPTER  L. 

Pledging  a,  Watch — Simpson  of  Chatham  street — Colonel  Mac  Neil  pledge* 
Ais  duelling  pistols— A  scene  at  43  Centre  street — Mirion  grti gcar<d — 
Finds  the  Count  Fa/sfcfiinski — Ue  gives  the  Colonel  onf  hundred  dollars — 
0  Dotnull  watches  thi  loan,  andfjllows  tlie  Colonel  to  Harrison  street. 

MARION  had  a  beautiful  gold  watch,  which  he  had  purchased 
of  Allen  in  Wall  street.  It  was  a  good  watch — solid  gold,  lots 
of  jewels — and  cost  one  hundred  dollars.  The  chain  and  other 
outrigging  cost  thirty  dollars  more.  About  once  a  month  some 
stern  necessity  would  compel  him  to  part  with  this  costly  affair 
temporarily.  He  detested  borrowing  when  he  was  short.  It 
is  a  horrible  degradation  to  an  independent  mind.  When  Mr. 
Monck  had  occasion  for  a  small  sum  he  would  go  openly  to 
Mr.  Simpson,  in  Chatham  street,  who  ought  to  be  regarded  as 
an  institution  of  New  York.  He  is  supposed  to  work  for  a 
large  per  centage.  Grant  it.  He  ought  to  get  a  much  larger 
one.  Who  earns  it  so  dearly  ?  Simpson  ought  to  charge 
more — he  would  do  so,  did  he  not  find  a  large  reward — 

In  his  calm  and  manly  breast, 
In  his  blessed  daily  task 
Of  pledging  the  distressed, 
Raising  up  the  broken  ones, 
Short  as  pie-crust  now  ; 
Bleeding  drops  of  deep  remorse 
From  an  anguished  brow. 

His  frequent  visits  attracted  the  attention  of  the  elder 
Simpson,  and  on  one  occasion  he  observed  to  Marion  Monck, 
"  Do  you  give  your  real  name  when  you  pledge  your  watch  ?" 


296  VIGOR. 

"  I  do,  sir.     I  am  not  ashamed  of  it.     "VVhy  do  you  ask  ?" 

"  Mere  curiosity.  Nothing  more,  I  assure  you,"  replied  the 
pawnbroker.  "  Most  people  sneak  in  here  as  though  they  had 
been  robbing  a  hen-roost,  and  felt  mean.  I  am  not  ashamed 
of  my  business  ;  and  I  like  a  customer  who  conies  openly  to  me 
and  says  what  he  wants  ;  and  if  I  can  let  him  what  he  needs  I 
do  it  without  any  chaffing.  Now  I've  given  you  twenty-five 
dollars  on  that  watch.  If  you  had  wanted  fifty  dollars  you 
should  have  had  it,"  said  the  pawnbroker. 

"  You  are  a  man  of  business,  Mr.  Simpson.  Egad,  you  must 
see  a  good  deal  of  the  under-current  of  life.  I  would-  like  to  be 
hired  by  you  for  six  months,  just  for  the  sake  of  studying 
human  character.  But  don't  you  get  taken  in  sometimes  ?" 
asked  Marion. 

"  Indeed  we  do.  It  requires  one  to  keep  his  eyes  open  to 
do  this  business  and  make  any  thing  by  it.  We  have  so  many 
rogues  to  deal  with  that  we  regard  every  man  as  a  rogue  until 
we  are  taught  better  by  experience.  We  hear  some  sad  stories 
— some  heart-rending  stories.  We  don't  know  whether  they 
are  true  or  not.  Some  doubtless  are,  but  '  we  have  no  time  to 
examine,'  "  replied  the  pawnbroker. 

"  Those  who  love  to  relieve  suffering  would  find  lots  of 
opportunities,  Mr.  Simpson,  if  they  would  watch  those  who 
came  in  here  for  relief,"  said  Marion. 

"  Indeed  you  never  spoke  a  truer  word.  Did  you  notice  a 
very  beautiful  girl,  who  went  out  just  as  you  came  in  ?  Neatly 
but  poorly  dressed  ?  She  pledged  two  sheets  for  twenty-five 
cents.  She  wanted  fifty.  Said  it  was  to  get  food  for  a  sick 
mother  until  she  got  her  pay  next  Saturday  night,  when  she 
would  return  the  money.  She  is  a  book-folder.  Her  mother 
and  she  can  sleep  between  blankets — do  without  sheets — can't 
do  without  food.  I  am  a  blessing  to  that  girl.  But  for  me, 
where  would  she  go  to  keep  her  mother  from  starving  ?  On 
the  town  ! — where  else  1"  emphatically  demanded  Mr.  Simpson. 

"  You  are  a  philosopher.  I  wish  I  had  known  how  she  was 
situated.  She  should  not  have  wanted  a  few  dollars  to  help 
her  along  in  her  dreary  walk,"  said  Marion,  kindly. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  dare  say — and  you  would  have  wanted  some 
thing  else  before  you  finished  with  her.  Young  men  are  young 
men.  I  make  it  a  point  never  to  speak  of  what  I  know  iu 
reference  to  young  females  who  come  to  my  shop.  Were  I' to 
do  so,  I  should  be  the  cause  of  the  ruin  of  a  great  many.  Now 
I  know  that  young  girl's  address.  She  gave  it  true.  It  is  on 
the  duplicate  ticket  for  the  two  sheets.  You  seem  to  be  a 


VIGOR.  297 

little  better  than  these  seducers  about  town ;  but  do  you 
suppose  I  would  put  you  in  the  way  of  temptation,  and,  having 
told  you  how  destitute  that  girl  is,  tell  you  also  where  you 
could  find  her  ?  No,  sir.  You  would  go,  relieve  her,  get  her 
gratitude,  talk  marriage  and  honor,  and  all  that  sort  of  lying 
nonsense,  and — probably  I  should  not  see  her  again  until  byc- 
and-bye,  after  the  lapse  of  a  year,  she  would  come  here,  rouged 
like  the  red  sides  of  a  peach,  to  make  a  raise  on  a  gold  watch 
or  a  silk  dress  to  pay  room  rent  to  some  boss  prostitute.  No, 
sir.  I  don't  do  business  that  way.  I  don't  trust  such  secrets 
to  any  body,"  said  the  conscientious  broker. 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  you  don't  suppose  I  am  such  a  sort  of 
person,  or  that  I  would  use  information  so  obtained  to  debauch 
a  young  and  beautiful  girl  ?''  replied  Marion,  a  little  angered 
and  mortified. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  might  do.  I  do  know  that  you 
will  not  get  any  information  from  me  about  it.  Poverty  to  a 
young  and  attractive  girl  is  a  fearful  thing  any  how  ;  but  it  is 
her  defensive  armor  only  so  long  as  prowlers  don't  know  it. 
When  a  bad  man  is  aware  that  a  girl  and  her  poor  mother  are 
in  a  state  of  starvation,  he  has  the  game  in  his  own  hands,  if  he 
chooses  to  run  it  down,"  said  the  pawnbroker. 

In  the  pawnbroker's  shop  of  the  worthy  Simpson  there  is  a 
long  counter,  but  at  the  extreme  end  there  are  some  three  or 
four  cubby -houses,  opened  to  the  counter,  but  with  high  sides  ; 
and  when  the  door  of  this  little  pigeon-house  is  closed,  it  can 
be  locked  inside,  and  the  party  occupying  it  can  keep  partially 
concealed.  Just  as  the  pawnbroker  had  finished  about  the 
girl,  a  person  entered  hurriedly,  and  passed  into  one  of  the 
boxes.  Marion  was  startled — he  thought  he  had  recognized 
the  person,  although  he  had  but  a  glimpse  of  him  as  he  passed. 
The  party  handed  to  the  pawnbroker  a  dark-colored  mahogany 
box,  saying, 

"  How  much  can  you  let  me  have  on  these  ?" 

Simpson  opened  the  box,  for  the  key  was  in  it. 

"  They  are  hair-trigger  duelling  pistols,"  said  the  applicant. 

"  Old-fashioned  affairs — out  of  date.  Wouldn't  sell  for 
much/'  replied  the  pawnbroker. 

They  have  been  used  on  two  melancholy  occasions  with 
deadly  effect,"  observed  the  applicant. 

"  Have  a  sort  of  historical  value,  have  they  ?  But  it  don't 
count  much  with  us,"  said  Mr.  Simpson. 

"  That  identical  pair  of  pistols,  sir,  was  used  in  the  duel  be- 


298  VIGOR. 

tween  Burr  and  Hamilton,  and  more  recently  in  a  duel  between 
Colonel  Graham  and  Mr.  Barton,"  observed  the  applicant. 

"  You  are  Mr.  Barton,  I  suppose,"  asked  the  pawnbroker. 

"  I  am  not,  sir,  but  I  was  a  second  to  that  gentleman  when 
his  opponent  was  killed,"  replied  the  applicant. 

"  Indeed  !  How  much  do  you  want  on  them  ?  If  they  had 
been  used  to  murder  all  creation,  it  wouldn't  make  'em  worth 
a  mite  more  in  this  shop,"  said  Simpson,  very  coolly. 

"  I  dare  say  it  would  not ;  but  those  pistols  must  have  cost 
over  eighty  guineas,"  urged  the  applicant,  and  added,  "  I  want 
twenty  dollars  upon  them." 

"  Can't  do  it — will  give  you  ten,  if  that  will  do  ;"  and  the 
pawnbroker  turned  to  another  customer. 

"  Give  it  to  me,  then,  and  take  them,"  said  the  applicant. 

"  Your  name  and  residence,  sir,"  asked  the  pawnbroker. 

"  Smith — 43  Centre  street,"  was  the  reply. 

"  P^irst  name  ?"  asked  the  pawnbroker. 

"  William,"  was  the  reply. 

The  tickets  were  arranged,  and  the  applicant  took  his  de- 
parture. 

"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Simpson,"  said  Marion  Monck. 

"  Good-bye,  sir.  Come  in  again — glad  to  see  you,"  replied 
Mr.  Simpson. 

No  sooner  was  Marion  Monck  out  in  the  street,  than  he  ad- 
dressed himself  thus  :  "  Poor  Mac  !  This  will  never  do.  I 
am  hard  up,  but  he  is  worse  off,  or  he  would  never  have 
pledged  those  redoubtable  duelling-pistols  of  his,  which  he 
exhibits  with  so  much  reverence.  What  can  have  happened  ?" 

He  hurried  up  to  Centre  street,  and  there  he  found  the 
Colonel  sipping  a  glass  of  liquor,  as  though  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. 

"  Egad,  I  will  not  mortify  him  so  much  as  to  tell  him  I  am 
aware  of  his  visit  to  the  pawnbroker's,"  thought  Marion  ;  and 
as  he  approached  Colonel  Mac  Neil,  who  was  so  short-sighted 
that  he  could  not  distinguish  a  face  before  he  heard  the  voice, 
he  exclaimed,  "  Good  morning,  Colonel ;  how  do  you  feel  this 
morning  1  Anything  new  ?  I  will  join  you  in  a  drink.  I  col- 
lected some  money  this  morning,  and  am  quite  flush." 

Saying  this,  he  pulled  out  a  roll,  and  without  waiting  for  a 
reply  to  his  first  salutation,  gaily  remarked,  "  If  you  want  some, 
Colonel,  help  yourself — but  I  know  you  never  want  money." 

"  My  dear  boy,  you  were  never  more  mistaken  in  your  life. 
I  do  want  money — I  want  just  twenty  dollars.  I  have  ten — 


VIGOR.  299 

see  it — and — I  will  help  myself  to  a  ten  from  your  pile — if  you 
can  spare  it,  that  is  •?" 

"  Easily,  my  dear  Colonel,  and  as  long  as  you  want  it," 
added  Marion. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  it  very  long.  The  fact  is,  Marion,"  and 
here  the  Colonel  lowered  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  I  have  had 
a  bard  time  of  it  lately.  Things  have  all  gone  wrong.  I  am 
getting  quite  discouraged.  I  have  a  home  with  the  proprietor 
of  this  store — old  porter  of  mine  when  I  was  rich,  you  know. 
Always  kept  some  cash  in  his  hands,  and  I  hate  to  borrow 
without  being  able  to  repay,  eh  ?  Safe  rule  that,  eh  ?  Keep 
one  horse  saddled  and  one  in  the  stable,  eh  1"  said  the  poor 
Colonel. 

There  was  an  unusual  wildness  about  Colonel  Mac  Neil  as 
he  said  this,  which  Marion  was  very  sorry  to  perceive.  He 
discovered  that  the  Colonel  had  been  drinking  very  freely  the 
day  before,  and  he  was  so  nervous  that  he  was  obliged  to  take 
three  stiff  drinks  while  Marion  was  with  him,  to  steady  his 
nerves.  Marion  felt  inclined  to  give  the  Colonel  a  few  worda 
of  friendly  advice,  and  to  caution  him  against  excessive  drink; 
but  he  had  hardly  spoken  a  word  respecting  it,  when  Mac  Neil 
uttered  the  sentence,  "  Boy,  stop  !  Not  a  word  more,  or  never 
dare  speak  to  me  again  !" 

Marion  was  silenced.  He  was  awed  by  this  wreck  of  hu- 
manity, who  was  so  much  older,  and  who  had  seen  so  many 
vicissitudes  in  life  ;  and  he  mentally  resolved  never  to  open 
his  lips  again  upon  the  subject,  no  matter  what  occurred.  He 
felt  it  to  be  useless.  For  a  proud  man,  who  has  become  ad- 
dicted to  drink,  and  continues  it  to  excess,  is  the  last  man  in  the 
world  to  permit  old  friends  to  discuss  such  a  subject,  of  to 
give  him  any  advice.  He  regards  it  as  a  wanton  insult,  and 
would  affront  the  only  remaining  friend  he  had  on  earth  to  re- 
bent  such  interference. 

There  were  in  that  place  other  persons  well  known  to  Colonel 
Mac  Neil,  and  also  to  Marion.  One  of  these,  whom  we  hav<5 
alluded  to  as  Charley,  the  clergyman's  brother,  was  a  very  sen- 
sible and  a  very  practical  man.  Loss  of  business,  of  property, 
and  utter  hopelessness,  had  led  him  to  abandon  himself  to 
drink  to  drown  sorrow,  but  he  had  a  limit  which  he  never  ex- 
ceeded. He  never  went  to  bed  sober,  but  he  managed  to  eat 
his  meals  regularly,  and  this  gave  the  rum  he  drank  something 
to  feed  on.  Mr.  Charles  addressed  Marion,  and  requested  to 
speak' with  him  alone.  Marion  retired  to  the  back  of  the  store, 
and  both  took  seats  upon  a  pipe  of  mixed  gin. 


300  VIGOR. 

"  Mr.  Monck,  I  want  to  tell  you  that  our  friend  the  Colonel 
is  going  it  too  strong.  He  can'-t  stand  it.  If  he  don't  let  up 
a  little  he  is  a  croaker.  His  constitution  is  cracked." 

Marion  asked  in  some  alarm  if  anything  of  importance  had 
recently  happened. 

"  O  no,  except  the  Colonel  has  been  keeping  up  a  tremen- 
dous head  of  steam,  and  until  a  very  late  hour.  I  heard  him 
say  this  morning,  when  he  came  down,  that  he  had  had  no  sleep 
for  forty-eight  hours.  When  he  took  his  first  drink  this  morn- 
ing, I  had  to  help  him  steady  his  glass  to  get  it  to  his  lips. 
He  was  very  shaky,  I  assure  you.  It  can't  last  long,"  ob- 
served the  good-natured  Mr.  Charles. 

"  G-ood  God,  I  should  think  not  !  But  what  can  be  done  1 
I  don't  like  to  say  anything.  I  did  speak  to  him  just  now,  and 
he  gave  me  a  reprimand  that  I  shall  not  forget  in  a  hurry.  I 
will  do  anything  that  I  can  do.  Tell  me  what  I  can  do  ?"  said 
Marion. 

'•  He  ought  to  be  placed  under  some  restraint,  sir.  He  can't 
control  himself.  Has  he  no  friends  that  would  pay  for  placing 
him  in  the  Hospital  ?  It  is  only  twelve  dollars.  They  cure 
him  for  that,  and  keep  him  from  drink  while  he  is  there.  If 
he  is  fool  enough  to  drink  when  he  comes  out,  and  rush  it  again, 
why  he  must  take  the  consequences,"  observed  the  prudent 
Charles. 

"  The  money,"  replied  Marion,  "  is  of  no  consequence.  That 
is  easily  raised.  But  who  will  broach  the  subject  to  the  Col- 
onel ?  If  he  don't  see  the  necessity  of  going  to  the  hospital 
he  will  not  go,  and  there  is  an  end  of  it." 

"True,  very  true.  But  he  is  getting  worse  every  day.  If 
he  don't  see  the  necessity  to-day,  he  may  to-morrow.  I  will 
try  and  see  what  I  can  do.  He  may  listen  to  me,  as  I  am 
nearly  of  his  age.  He  will  not  to  you — that  is  certain.  I  will 
talk  to  you  again  to-morrow ;"  and  with  this  benevolent  senti- 
ment Mr.  Charles  put  an  end  to  the  conversation  by  reporting 
himself  in  person  to  an  invitation  to  take  a  drink. 

Marion  began  to  sicken  of  the  scene.  He  saw  Colonel  Mac 
Neil  again  going  up  to  the  bar  for  another  drink.  He  saw  even 
the  proprietor  shake  his  head  reprovingly  to  the  Colonel. 
Then  Marion  made  his  escape  from  the  premises  by  a  rear 
door.  He  was  very  anxious  about  the  Colonel.  He  had  re- 
ceived twenty-five  dollars,  and  he  had  let  the  Colonel  have  ten. 
He  went  at  once  to  his  landlady,  and  gave  her  the  remaining  fif- 
teen dollars.  He  now  determined  to  see  the  Count  Falsechin- 
ski.  He  knew  that  at  that  hour  the  Count  would  be  at  Del- 


VIGOR.  301 

monico's  in  Beaver  street.  He  hurried  down  there,  and  luck- 
ily found  him.  The  Count  received  him  very  cordially,  but 
scolded  him  for  not  coming  oftener  to  see  him. 

"  I  have  sought  you  this  morning,  Count,  to  tell  you  about 
poor  Colonel  Mac  Neil.  You  know  I  like  him.  I  this  morn- 
ing gave  him  ten  dollars.'' 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  money  to  spend  on  him  ?" 

Marion's  blood  rushed  to  his  cheeks,  and  he  took  out  his 
pawn  ticket. 

"  There,  sir.  I  pledged  my  watch  to  get  twenty-five  dollars, 
and  ten  dollars  I  gave  poor  Mac,  and  fifteen  dollars  I  paid  iny 
landlady,"  said  Marion. 

"  Pshaw,  my  boy — don't  get  vexed  with  me  !  I  have  a  fixed 
purpose  for  you.  It  is  only  fair  that  I  should  pay  your  ex- 
penses until  my  plans  are  ripe.  Here  is  money.  Don't  turn 
an  angry  look  at  me — I  will  not  see  it.  Here  are  two  bills  of 
one  Ifundred  dollars  each — make  them  go  as  far  as  they  will. 
This  money  is  for  yourself— not  for  Colonel  Mac  Neil.  Still, 
Marion,  as  the  Colonel  was  the  means  of  making  you  and  I  ac- 
quainted, I  will  do  anything  for  him  that  you  desire.  Where 
can  I  find  him  ?  I  will  go  with  you  now,"  said  the  Count. 

Marion  was  surprised  at  the  alacrity  of  the  Count.  He  re- 
ceived and  pocketed  the  two  hundred  dollars  without  any 
remark.  The  two  started  for  Centre  street.  While  on  the 
way  the  Count  was  pleasant  and  communicative,  and  talked 
upon  a  variety  of  topics.  At  last  he  said, 

"  Upon  second  thoughts,  I  do  not  wish  you  to  go  with  me  to 
see  Colonel  Mac  Neil.  Tell  me  where  he  is  to  be  found,  and 
I  will  find  him.  Now  go  and  get  your  watch  and  join  me  at 
the  Colonel's." 

Marion  complied  with  the  wish  of  the  Count's.  As  he  en- 
tered Simpson's  the  second  time  that  day,  he  handed  him  the 
ticket  and  a  hundred  dollar  bill.  Mr.  Simpson  received  it, 
gave  the  change,  and  ordered  a  boy  to  go  get  the  watch.  He 
made  no  comment.  Most  men  would  have  said  something,  as, 
"  0,  you  are  in  luck  ;"  "  Have  you  been  robbing  anybody  ?" 
or  "  Found  a  gold  mine  ?"  but  such  a  man  was  not  Mr.  Simpson. 
Commenting  was  not  in  his  line.  There  was  some  little  delay 
attending  the  delivery  of  the  watch,  and  when  Marion  reached 
No.  43  Centre  street,  where  he  was  to  meet  Count  Falsechin- 
ski,  he  found  that  gentleman  engaged  in  earnest  conversation 
with  Colonel  Mac  Neil.  Marion  did  not  interrupt  their  con- 
versation, but  he  was  surprised.  He  had  never  noticed  the 
Colonel  in  such  glorious  spirits.  He  seetned  to  be  a  new  man, 


302  VIGOR. 

and  perfectly  sober.  He  remarked  this  fact  to  Mr.  Charles. 
The  latter  was  an  old  soldier.  He  observed  in  reply, 

"  That  is  all  false.  He  is  drinking  upon  dead  liquor  in  his 
system.  A  gallon  of  rum  would  not  have  made  him  drunk  this 
morning.  But  to-morrow — wait  until  to-morrow  !  See  him  in 
the  morning!  It  will  be  dreadful,  and  it  will  be  worse  every 
succeeding  day,  until  the  Colonel  has  the  delirium  tremons. 
I  know  just  how  it  works-— you  can't  tell  me  anything  about 
that  matter.  Colonel  Mac  Neil  don't  eat  anything — he  don't 
sleep,  and  he  drinks  like  a  fish.  Of  course  such  a  bad  state 
of  things  cannot  last  long.  There  will  be  a  pull  up  some  time 
or  another." 

Having  delivered  these  brief  philosophical  observations,  the 
brother  of  the  Trinity  Church  clergyman  went  to  take  another 
drink  to  his  own  cheek. 

Marion  approached  the  Count  and  Colonel  Mac  Neil.  The 
latter  spoke  in  a  stern  voice,  ''  No,  sir.  No,  sir.  Not  as  a 
favor.  Not  as  a  loan  from  you,  sir.  I  am  a  gentleman,  sir.  I 
am  of  the  race  of  Mac  Neil.  I  accept  the  hundred  dollars  you 
are  so  kind  as  to  loan  me,  provided  you,  sir,  accept  this  ridic- 
ulous pawn-ticket  for  a  petty  ten  dollars  for  pistols  that  have 
killed  a  Hamilton  and  a  Graham." 

The  Count  took  the  ticket  at  once,  for  he  was  afraid  of  a 
scene.  "  That  is  right,  sir.  We  are  now  equals.  It  is  a  reg- 
ular business  transaction.  You  have  collateral  security  of  at 
least  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for  a  loan  of  one  hundred 
dollars.  Now  let  us  take  a  drink.  What  will  you  have,  Count 
Falsechinski  ?"  Colonel  Mac  Neil  continued. 

Tbe  Count  pleasantly  named  his  drink  to  the  bar-tender. 

"  Count,"  continued  the  Colonel,  "  did  you  ever  see  in  me, 
sir,  any  thing  incompatible  with  the  character  of  a  gentleman  ? 
One  of  the  race  of  Mac  Neil.  The  best  blood  in  the  High- 
lands in  olden  times,  and  I  am  proud  of  it,  sir.  You  are  a 
blooded  masculine,  if  Poles  can  have  blood,  Count,  eh  ?  Ex- 
cuse the  pun,  but  you  are  a  Pole,  are  you  not  ?  A  noble  Pole. 
Well,  success  to  you.  Here  is  your  very  good  health." 

The  Count  replied  in  courteous  terms,  and  began  to  look  at 
the  door,  and  seemed  uneasy.  •  Just  at  that  moment  Marion 
noticed  Mr.  O'Doemall  seated  near  the  chairs  recently  occu- 
pied by  the  Colonel  and  the  Count.  O'Doemall  had  evidently 
been  a  witness  to  the  money  scene  between  the  two  parties. 
As  soon  as  he  perceived  that  he  was  noticed  by  Marion,  he 
came  forward  in  his  bold,  daring  way,  said  "  How  d'y  ?"  to 
Marion,  and  addressed  both  the  Count  and  Colonel.  The 


VIGOR.  303 

former  bowed,  but  the  latter  treated  Mr.  O'Doemall  with  cold- 
ness, and  made  an  excuse  to  leave.  O'Doemall  then  ordered  a 
drink  for  himself,  and  began  to  converse  with  the  Colonel. 
Marion  no  sooner  observed  the  departure  of  the  Count  than  he 
followed  him  into  the  street,  but  he  lost  him,  and  concluded 
not  to  return  to  the  drinking  saloon. 

The  artful  O'Doemall  had  it  all  hig  own  way  with  Colonel 
Mac  Neil  after  the  departure  of  the  Count  Falsechinski  and 
Marion  Monck.  He  flattered  his  vanity,  and  the  Colonel  was 
fast  getting  too  intoxicated  to  notice  the  hollowness  of  praise 
coming  from  such  foul  lips,  and  he  also  forgot  the  character  of 
the  man  with  whom  he  was  associating. 

Finally,  the  Colonel  expressed  his  intention  of  going  and 
spending  an  evening  with  his  family. 

"  Family  !"  interrupted  O'Doemall,  "  I  did  not  know  that 
jou  had  a  family.  Where  do  they  live  ?" 

This  question  for  a  moment  sobered  the  Colonel,  who  felt 
that  he  had  said  too  much,  and  with  a  scowl  at  his  impudent 
companion,  remarked,  "  You  are  a  rascal.  Clear  out  at  once, 
or  I  will  order  you  to  be  put  out." 

Mr.  O'Doemall  went  out  at  once,  but  his  departure  was  not 
noticed  by  the  Colonel.  Unluckily  for  him  that  this  artful 
scamp  had  again  been  permitted  to  renew  an  acquaintance 
which  had  ended  for  ever,  but  for  his  kindness  to  Marion 
Monck  when  sick-  Mr.  O'Doemall  had  seen  the  Count  hand 
Colonel  Mac  Neil  money.  He  had  tried  to  get  into  Mac  Neil's 
good  graces,  but  had  failed.  He  now  determined  to  watch 
him.  Shortly  after  Colonel  Mac  Neil  left  43  Centre  street, 
and  passed  over  to  the  west  side  of  Broadway.  At  several 
stores  he  stopped  and  made  purchases.  Some  of  the  smaller 
articles  so  purchased  he  carried  on  himself.  The  others  he  or- 
dered sent  to  the  address  he  left  with  the  different  store  keep- 
ers. When  he  had  satisfied  himself,  he  continued  on  his  way 
to  27  Harrison  street,  and  entered  the  house.  No  sooner  had 
the  door  closed  than  O'Doemall,  who  had  been  following  him, 
crossed  the  street  to  the  house,  and  after  having  carefully  no- 
ticed the  number,  he  passed  down  the  street  to  the  dock. 

"I  have  housed  my  game,  and  J  will  try  and  amuse   myself 
for  a  short  time,  or  until  he  comes  out,"  was  his  soliloquy. 


304  VIGOR. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

The  Plans  of  Walter  Granvilltand  Miss    N»rris  -  Julia    Brown—The  De- 
parture of  Rote — Miss  Norris  leaves  Jtliss  Brown's  Residence, 

IF  Walter  Granville  had  returned  like  the  Prodigal  Son  in 
the  year  18 — orthereabouts.no  doubt  old  Granville  would 
have  bid  him  welcome,  got  up  a  great  dinner,  and  celebrated 
the  event  with  considerable  rejoicings  :  but  young  Granville 
came  back  after  years  of  absence  with  no  repentant  feelings. 
His  father  had  kicked  him  out,  and  Walter  felt  much  obliged 
to  him  that  he  had  done  so.  It  had  made  a  man  of  him — made 
a  free  man.  He  had  returned  to  this  city  because  the  vessel 
in  which  he  had  been  cruising  was  ordered  to  New  York.  He 
had  landed  without  intending  to  call  upon  his  father,  friends, 
or  any  body  else.  As  a  rover  he  had  called  at  No.  100  Church 
street,  because  he  had  known  in  earlier  years  that  the  house  at 
that  number  was  kept  for  pleasure  purposes.  He  had  money 
to  spend,  and  he  intended  to  spend  some  of.it  there,  and  the 
meeting  with  Miss  Norris  was  entirely  accidental.  He  regard- 
ed it  as  a  piece  of  good  fortune.  Her  curious  conduct  had 
saved  him  money,  and  he  felt  obliged. 

When  Clara  proposed  to  Walter  Granville  to  remain  there 
that  Sunday,  and  to  go  up  in  the  country  with  her,  he  con- 
sented at  once,  becau.se  he  had  nothing  to  do  on  board  the  ves/ 
sel,  and  nothing  in  town  that  he  was  aware  of.  His  sea  chest 
was  where  he  could  get  it  at  any  moment,  and  he  had  no  alarm 
about  that. 

Neither  Clara  Norris  nor  Walter  Granville  had  any  idea  of 
what  a  storm  was  brewing  in  Church  street,  to  be  shortly 
poured  out  upon  their  devoted  heads  by  the  worthy  Mrs.  Ju- 
lia Brown.  That  lady  was  npt  a  woman  to  be  robbed  of  one 
of  her  most  beautiful  night  birds  without  fluttering  her  moth- 
erly wiogs. 

This  lady,  deserves  more  than  a  passing  notice.  Previous  to 
the  date  of  our  Chapter,  Julia  Brown  kept  a  two-story  house 
of  ill-fame  in  Leonard  street.  It  was  pulled  down  in  1837  to 
make  room  for  the  new  Italian.Opera  House.  Thence  Madam 


VIGOR.  305 

moved  to  100  Church  street,  an<J  after  residing  there  for  some 
years,  she  returned  to  Leonard  street,  and  in  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  Palaces  of  Sin  ever  built  in  New  York,  continued 
business  for  a  long  time.  This  house  was  next  door  to  the 
Italian  Opera  House.  When  that  edifice  was  burnt,  Julia's 
house  was  consumed  also.  It  was  in  this  fire  that  the  celebra- 
ted Mr.  (T.,  who  was  sleeping  with  the  noted  courtesan  Mary 
Moore,  the  female  partner  in  London  of  Colonel  Monroe  Ed- 
wards. G.  barely  escaped  in  his  shirt  from  being  burned  to 
death. 

Miss  Julia  Brown  made  a  large  fortune  in  this  business. — 
She  was  a  beautiful  woman,  but  not  immoral  herself.  She  was 
married  to  a  fancy  man  named  Jack  Harris!.  For  a  long  time 
he  was  her  fancy  man,  but  when  a  daughter  was  born,  he  be- 
came her  husband. 

This  Jack  Harris  was  also  a  character  in  his  day.  He  was  a 
sporting  man,  drank  hard,  lived  high,  made  bets  on  every 
thing — and  in  a  word  was  a  thorough-bred  gambler.  He  was 
also  a  great  politician,  and  in  those  days  ruled  the  Fifth  Ward 
Democratic  politics,  and  presided  at  the  primary  meeting  that 
first  elected  Fernando  Wood  to  a  seat  as  a  member  of  the 
Young  Men's  Committee  at  Tammany  Hall. 

Jack  Harris  had  a  friend  named  Allen  who  would  lend  him 
a  thousand  dollars  whenever  he  needed  it,  and  for  a  week's 
use  of  this  sum  would  charge  Jack  one  hundred.  Miss  Julia 
Brown,  though  conducting  a  business  for  the  public  down  town, 
had  her  own  magnificent  residence  in  Fourth  street,  up  town. 
At  this  house  lived  her  daughter,  who  probably  never  was  in- . 
side  of  her  mother's  "  place  of  business."  The  daughter  was 
not  pretty,  b'lt  intelligent  and  virtuous.  While  living  in 
Fourth  street,  which  house  she  owned,  Julia  came  down  in 
her  carriage  to  her  business  in  the  morning,  and  retired  at 
night,  leaving  in  charge  for  the  later  hours,  a  housekeeper. 

All  of  a  sudden,  from  being  a  pretty  sinner,  Miss  Julia 
Brown  became  a  violent  saint.  Her  first  appearance  in  this 
character  was  at  a  sale  of  pews  in  a  Universalist  church  in  her 
neighborhood.  She  bought  a  pew  half  way  up  the  middle 
aisle,  and  paid  for  it  one  hundred  and  seventy  dollars  She  at- 
tended this  church,  occupying  her  own  seat,  for  several  Sun- 
days, accompanied  by  her  daughter.  No  one  knew  her — but 
on  the  sixth  Sunday,  a  gentleman  in  the  adjoining  seat  became 
aware  of  the  proximity  of  his  old  acquaintance  Julia  Brown, 
and  he  mentioned  the  circumstance  to  his  wife,  who  was  a 
member  of  the  church.  She  told  it  to  a  dozen  other  female 


306  VIGOR. 

members,  and  it  kicked  up  a  delight  for  the  devil  in  that  con- 
gregation. A  large  majority  were  for  putting  Julia  out  of  the 
synagogue  without  a  word  of  explanation.  More  peaceable 
measures  were  recommended  by  the  clergyman,  and  it  was  de- 
cided that  he  should  call  upon  the  frail  but  somewhat  notorious 
einner  at  her  own  domicile. 

He  did  so.  Julia  was  a  good  actor.  She  spread  herself  at 
once  :  confessed  that  she  had  been  bad — very  bad,  but  that 
she  had  repented,  was  living  in  private — had  married  Jack — 
was  bringing  up  her  daughter  right,  and  had  hopes  that  she 
should  be  enabled  to  convert  Jack  Harris,  and  get  him  all 
straight.  The  clergyman  felt  bad.  It  was  a  mighty  hard 
case.  He  preached  a  sermon  about  Mary  Magdalen — the  con- 
gregation sympathized — and  the  upshot  was  that  Julia  contin- 
ued in  favor,  and  eventually  became  a  religious  lioness  in  that 
church,  and  visited  freely  with  the  different  families  of  that 
congregation — and  among  others,  that  of  Mr.  Allen. 

Meanwhile  Julia  did  sell  out  her  establishment  down  town 
— or  pretended  that  she  had  done  'so.  Her  daughter  had 
grown  up  to  be  a  fine  young  girl.  She  was  courted  by  several 
young  men.  One  of  them  was  Mr.  F.  E.,  one  of  the  hand- 
somest men  in  the  City,  or  that  could  be  found  in  the  State. 
Mr.  E.  was  accepted,  and  the  parties  were  married,  with  the 
full  consent  and  approval  of  both  Julia  Brown  and  Mr.  Harris. 

Not  long  after  the  marriage  was  solemnized,  Julia,  who  was 
posted  in  all  the  wickedness  of  the  world  in  general,  and  of 
mankind  in  particular,  discovered  that  her  son-in-law  had 
become  the  fancy  man  of  one  Ellen  McVean,  a  handsome 
courtezan  that  resided  with  Cinderella  Marshall  in  Leonard 
street,  opposite  Julia's  old  house.  The  mother  went  to  work 
and  procured  a  divorce  for  her  daughter.  Not  long  after, 
another  suitor  appeared.  He  was  a  lawyer,  named  McM.  He 
married  the  divorced  Mrs.  E.  Then  Julia  Brown  died, 
leaving  a  very  large  property  to  this  daughter,  and  left  Allen 
(Jack's  friend)  executor.  Then  Jack  died,  and  he  also  left  his 
property  to  this  daughter,  and  also  made  Allen  his  executor. 
The  daughter  of  Julia  was  now  rich  in  her  own  right.  She 
owned  a  large  tract  on  the  Fifth  avenue.  Then  she  built  a 
house  and  moved  into  it  with  her  husband.  The  lady  believed 
that  money  was  the  sesame  that  opened  all  doors.  She  had 
money,  and  she  desired  to  shine  in  the  Fifth  avenue.  But 
powerful  as  is  money,  it  failed  to  place  Mrs.  McM.  at  the  head 
of  the  sett  about  her.  One's  grandmother  may  have  been  a 
washerwoman,  or  never  have  had  any  existence.  But  when 


VIGOR.  307 

one's  mother  is  notorious  for  having  made  the  money  we  are  in- 
clined to  spend  off  the  souls  and  bodies  of  human  beings  by 
keeping  a  house  of  ill-fame,  it  brings  things  too  near  home.  If 
is  coming  it  too  strong.  So  thought  some  of  Mrs.  AlcM.'s 
neighbors,  and  they  "  cut  her." 

Disappointed  as  was  Mrs.  McM.  in  such  a  result,  she  was 
not  dispirited  or  disheartened.  She  determined  to  command 
success — to  shine  as  a  star  somewhere.  Her  mother  was  a 
woman  whose  fame  was  a  public  one,  why  should  not  the 
daughter  appeal  to  the  public  for  favor,  although  in  a  different 
way,  and  under  somewhat  different  auspices  1  This  decided 
her,  so  she  took  to  Shakespeare  and  the  stage,  and  made  her 
first  appearance  in  Buffalo.  She  came  to  New  York,  and  hired 
the  Academy  of  Music  for  one  night.  Not  satisfied  with  these 
appearances,  she  determined  to  try  another  feat.  She  became 
manager  of  a  theatre  in  Chambers  street,  and  we  hope  she  will 
carve  her  way  to  a  niche  in  the  temple  of  fame. 

This  digression  is  not  out  of  place.  It  is  an  •episode  that 
could  not  be  left  out ;  and  having  followed  in  brief  the  for- 
tunes of  the  mother  to  her  death,  and  the  daughter  to  her  be- 
coming a  public  character,  we  now  return  to  Julia  Brown  when 
she  was  in  her  glory  at  No.  100  Church  street,  coining  money 
as  if  she  were  owner  of  a  mint. 

We  left  Walter  Grranville  and  Clara  waiting  in  the  parlor 
appropriated  to  Clara.  It  was  near  midday  before  Mrs.  Brown 
made  her  appearance.  It  was  then  reported  to  her  that  Rose 
had  not  been  down.  Mrs.  Brown  sent  at  once  to  Clara  Norris 
to  ask  if  she  knew  anything  about  Rose.  Clara  made  no  reply, 
but  went  to  Mrs.  Brown  herself. 

"  Rose  is  not  in  my  room,  Mrs.  Brown,"  said  Clara. 

"  Did  not  she  and  her  companion  of  last  night  get  breakfast 
with  you  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Brown,  who  was  getting  warm. 

"  They  did,"  replied  Miss  Norris. 

"  Then  where  is  Rose  ?''  again  demanded  Mrs.  Brown. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mrs.  Julia  Brown,  I  think  Rose  has 
gone  for  good.  She  was  but  a  child,  and  the  person  who  was 
with  her  last  night  took  her  off,"  was  the  reply  of  Miss  Norris. 

"  Why  in  h — 11  did  you  not  stop  it  1  Why  did  you  not  rouse 
the  house — rouse  me  ?  I  had  rather  have  lost  five  hundred 
dollars  than  that  girl !"  exclaimed  Julia. 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  that.  I  let  her  out  myself,"  innocently 
observed  Miss  Norris. 

"  You,  Clara  Norris  !     Do  you  dare  to  tell  me  this  !"  and 


308  VIGOR. 

she  seized  an  iron  bar  that  fastened  one  of  the  windows,  and 
approached  her  as  if  to  strike. 

"  Have  a  care,  Mrs.  Brown.  One  step  nearer,  and  you  will 
go  to  h — 11  before  your  time  ;"  and  Clara  drew  from  her  bo- 
som a  small  dagger.  She  held  it  so  close  to  Mrs.  Julia,  that 
the  latter  dropped  the  bar,  and  putting  on  one  of  her  sweetest 
smiles,  exclaimed, 

"  Why,  Clara,  dear,  what  is  the  matter  ?    I  was  only  joking." 

CJara  replied,  calmly,  "  Take  care,  Julia,  that  you  don't  try 
such  jokes  .on  me  once  too  often.  Have  a  care." 

It  was  now  Julia's  turn  to  be  calm.  She  asked  who  was  to 
pay  a  debt  that  Rose  owed  her  ? 

"Come,  Julia,"  said  Clara.  "If  you  will  send  all  Rose's 
things  to  my  room,  I  will  pay  you  out  of  my  own  purse.  You 
shall  not  lose  by  my  carelessness.  Really,  had  I  known  that 
Rose  was  such  a  valuable  little  package,  I  should  -have  been 
more  careful.  Now  be  a  good  woman,  and  go  get  Rose's  things 
packed.  How  much  is  her  debt  ?" 

"  Forty  dollars,"  replied  the  somewhat  mollified  Brown. 

"  I  will  pay  it  when  I  have  her  trunks  ;  and  now  I  think  of 
it,  I  will  go  and  see  Rose's  things  picked  up  and  packed,  and 
have  her  trunks  placed  in  my  room  ;"  and  she  tripped  out  of 
the  room.  Could  she  have  heard  the  curses  hurled  at  her  by 
Julia  when  she  had  left  the  room,  she  would  have  hugged  her 
small  dagger  more  closely. 

The  trunks  of  Rose  were  packed  and  placed  in  Clara's  par- 
lor. Then  she  sent  for  a  carriage  to  be  at  No.  100  after  din- 
ner. She  and  Walter  dined  together,  and  then  had  the  trunks 
of  Rose  placed  in  the  carriage.  The  driver  had  his  instruc- 
tions, and  the  couple  entered  and  were  driven  to  the  North 
American  Hotel,  in  the  Bowery. 

They  found  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robinson's  names  on  the  book, 
and  were  shown  to  their  room.  Rose  was  very  grateful,  and 
ordered  up  her  trunks.  Walter  and  Henry  Robinson  left  the 
ladies  together,  and  went  down  into  the  sitting-room,  and  had 
a  cosy  chat  about  matters. 

"  I  hope,  Robinson,"  said  Henry,  "  that  I  shall  soon  see 
some  opening  in  New  York.  I  will  never  go  to  sea  any  more  " 

"  Indeed,  and  by  the  way,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
that  little  girl  Rose,"  asked  Walter. 

"  Save  her  from  destruction,  if  I  can,  and  become  steady 
myself.  And  you,  Walter,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
Clara  ?''  replied  Henry. 

"  Probably  she  will  send  me  to  destruction.    I  do  not  know. 


VIGOR.  309 

I  shall  take  my  cbances.  Where  will  I  find  you  if  you  leave 
her  ?"  asked  Walter. 

"  I  will  always  leave  my  address  at  the  hotel  for  you,"  re- 
plied Robinson. 

Soon  after  Clara  and  Walter  returned  to  Julia  Brown's. 
That  lady  was  ripe  for  a  row.  She  had  heard  of  Clara's  pro- 
ceedings, and  the  course  she  had  pursued  with  the  sailor  Wal- 
ter was  perfectly  disgusting  to  the  landlady. 

"  I  wish  you  to  quit  these  premises,  Miss  Clara,  as  soon  as 
you  find  it  convenient.  I  won't  have  such  carrying*  on.  You 
put  yourself  up — you  make  out  yourself  a  lady,  and  put  on 
airs.  Hoity-toity,  what  a  long  tail  our  pussy  cat  has  got !  Get 
out !"  exclaimed  Airs.  Brown,  choking  with  indignation. 

"  Leave  my  room,  madam,  instantly  I"  said  Clara,  for  it  was 
in  her  parlor  that  this  scene  occurred. 

"  I  will  leave  your  parlor — my  parlor,  that  is.  I  don't  as- 
sociate with  picked  up  common  sailors,  I  don't,"  replied  the 
indignant  Brown. 

A  decanter  hurled  by  Walter  at  the  head  of  the  saucy  land- 
lady, and  which  dashed  to  pieces  against  the  wall,  brought  the 
dialogue  to  an  end,  and  Mrs.  Brown  made  good  her  retreat, 
threatening  police,  and  all  sorts  of  vengeance. 

Clara  rang  the  bell.  It  was  answered,  and  she  a  second  time 
ordered  a  carriage,  and  then  told  the  messenger  to  say  to  Mrs. 
Brown  that  Miss  Norris  would  leave  as  soon  as  the  carriage 
was  ready.  Again  Mrs.  Brown  came,  and  this  time  it  was  to 
try  to  make  up. 

"  Be  it  so — I  have  nothing  against  you.  Hand  me  fifty, 
Julia,  and  we  are  quits." 

The  money  was  paid.  It  took  some  time  to  pack  up  all  the 
articles  of  apparel  belonging  to  Miss  Clara,  but  at  last  it  was 
completed,  with  Walter's  assistance.  The  baggage  almost 
loaded  down  the  coach,  and  when  Clara  and  Walter  entered  it, 
they  had  barely  room  to  seat  themselves. 

"  Where  now  ?"  asked  the  driver. 

Clara  replied  "  Bond  street,"  and  gave  him  a  card. 

Walter  made  no  observation  until  the  carriage  stopped  at  an 
elegant  house  in  Bond  street. 

"  We  will  not  go  into  the  country  for  some  days,  Walter, 
and  I  have  brought  you  to  a  friend's  residence,  where  we  will 
stay  a  short  time,"  said  Clara. 

"  Is  she  one  of  the  other  sort  ?"  asked  Walter. 

"  No.  She  is  a  pious  lady — keeps  her  own  carriage,"  re- 
plied Clara. 


3 10  VIGOR. 

Mrs.  Woodruff  was  really  glad  to  see  Clara,  and  when  she 
introduced  Walter  Granville  by  his  own  name,  she  regarded 
Clara  with  astonishment. 

"  la  he  the  son  of  Pitt  Granville  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mrs.* Woodruff ;  -and  you  must  make  him  at  home  for 
his  father's  sake,"  replied  Miss  Norris. 

Tea  was  soon  after  served,  and  Walter  was  more  amazed 
and  more  mystified  than  ever.  The  pious  Mrs.  Woodruff  and 
her  palace  and  its  solitude  he  could  not  pretend  to  fathom,  and 
did  not  try  to  do  it. 


CHAPTER    LII. 

Colonel  Mae  Neil's  Last  Night  with  His  Family — He  ha*  a  Presentiment  of 
His  Fate,  and  Prepares  for  it — He  is  Knocked  Down,  Robbed,  and  Badly 
Hurt  in  Franklin  street — Gets  to  40  Centre  street  About  Daybreak — He 
Dreads  Delirium  Tremens,  and  is  Persuaded  to  go  to  the  City  Hospita' — 
Marion  Monck  goes  up  with  him. 

COLONEL  MAC  NEIL'S  appearance  in  27  Harrison  street,  under 
any  circumstances,  was  a  welcome  apparition.  He  carried 
thither  sunshine  and  happiness.  His  two  children  were  de- 
lighted, and  a  calm  peace  diffused  itself  through  the  bosom  of 
that  mother.  Miss  Jane  McPherson  was  an  extraordinary 
woman.  She  was  Scotch,  had  many  of  the  prejudices  and  opin- 
ions of  the  Scotch  people;  she  worshipped  Mac  Neil,  and  re- 
garded his  proud  family  and  his  descent  as  some  thing  so  su- 
perior to  her  own,  that  she  never  blamed  him  for  not  marrying 
her,  but  framed  excuses  in  her  own  heart  fur  his  conduct.  Her 
soul  was  given  to  him  and  his  children.  If  she  sometimes 
prayed  that  he  might  marry  her,  it  was  not  from  selfish  con- 
siderations, or  from  the  thought  that  her  position  would  be 
more  respectable.  It  was  because,  in  her  simple  way  of  think- 
ing, if  the  Colonel  was  her  husband,  he  would  live  in  the  house 
with  her  and  the  children,  and  she  would  be  able  to  nurse, 
tend,  and  care  for  him  in  sickness. 

To  the  children  he  was  affectionate  and  tender,  and  showed 
more  marked  kindness  than  if  they  had  been  legitimate.  Both 
were  attending  the  free  .school  in  North  Moore  street,  and  were 
making  rapid  progress  in  their  studies.  In  these  studies  the 
Colonel  took  a  deep  interest,  and  encouraged  them  to  be  pur- 
sued on  every  visit.  He  never  failed  to  bring  them  presents 
of  any  thing  that  he  thought  they  would  like,  and  scarcely  a 


VIGOR.  311 

week  passed  that  he  did  not  send  thorn  a  sufficiency  of  the  best 
of  provisions  for  their  maintenance.  He  would  not  suffer  Jane  to 
broach  the  subject  of  money.  He  had  not  drawn  a  dollar  from 
their  little  fund  since  he  made  the  settlement  upon  her.  On 
the  contrary,  he  had  added  to  it,  at  one  time  eight  hundred 
dollars,  and  in  small  sums  to  the  extent  of  two  hundred  dol- 
lars more.  On  the  occasion  of  this  visit,  Colonel  Mac  Neil 
was  unusually  kind  and  affectionate.  He  kissed  the  young 
people  fondly,  and  to  Miss  Jane  he  seemed  perfectly  devoted. 
The  good  woman  set  out  the  table,  and  prepared  a  pleasant 
spread  for  him.  Soon  after  the  Colonel  made  his  appearance, 
different  porters  arrived  with  things  he  had  bought  that  he  was 
unable  to  bring  himself.  All  seemed  happy,  but  Miss  Jane 
felt  a  gloom  that  she  could  not  account  for.  She  had  a  pre- 
sentiment of  evil,  and  it  was  increased  when  the  tea  was  over, 
and  the  Colonel  handed  her  a  package. 

"  Jane,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  we  are  all  liable  to  die,  and  I 
have  thought  it  best  to  write  out  an  order  for  my  few  things  in 
case  of  any  accident  ever  happening  to  me.  I  have  a  valuable 
bureau — old  family  papers  in  it — that  some  day  I  want  my  son 
to  have.  It  is  in  the  rear  of  No.  46  Centre  street.  The  ownci- 
of  that  store  has  rooms  in  his  house  to  rent.  I  occupy  a  small 
one,  and  in  it  are  personal  matters  that  I  want  to  become  my 
son's.  I  have  written  all  about  these  matters  in  the  letter  I 
now  give  you.  Should  I  die,  I  think  it  would  be  better  that 
you  move  out  of  New  York.  It  is  a  bad  place.  You  do  not 
know  who  to  trust,  and  a  lone,  unprotected  woman  has  a  hard 
time  of  it — or  if  you  do  not  choose  to  do  that,  send  for  your 
father  to  come  to  New  York.  The  old  man  would  not  refuse 
to  do  so  when  I  am  dead  and  out  of  the  way.  But  mind,  I  do 
not  wish  to  advise  you  against  your  own  good  common  sense." 

While  the  Colonel  was  delivering  this  melancholy  address, 
Miss  Jane  placed  both  hands  to  her  face  and  wept. 
,  The  Colonel  kindly  observed,  "  Don't  be  so  foolish,  Jane. 
I  have  got.  to  die  some  day,  and  I  say  these  unpleasant  things 
now,  for  they  have  got  to  be  said  some  day,  and  it  may  as  well 
be  done  first  as  last.  With  my  letter  to  you  and  to  the  chil- 
dren in  your  possession,  I  feel  relieved.  I  am  rid  of  an  un- 
pleasant duty,"  and  as  if  to  confirm  his  words,  the  Colonel  be- 
gan to  be  quite  merry.  He  told  anecdotes,  sang  a  few  songs, 
and  when  he  said  he  must  go,  it  seemed  as  though  the  children 
would  not  let  him  do  so.  Poor  Colonel  Mac  Neil.  He  kissed 
them  all  affectionately,  and  left  the  house.  It  was  near  eleven 
o'clock,  and  he  hurried  onward  as  fast  as  possible,  hoping  to 


312  VIGOR. 

get  as  far  as  46  Centre  street  before  Harry  closed  up  for  the 
night.  He  knew  what  time  it  was,  for  at  tho  moment  of  leav- 
ing his  children  he  took  a  gold  repeater  from  his  pocket  and 
looked  at  the  hour.  Then  he  looked  at  the  massive  chain  and 
the  seal.  He  had  frequently  explained  to  his  son  that  the  seal 
bore  upon  it  the  coat  of  arms  of  his  family.  He  gave  the  watch 
to  his  son,  telling  him  he  might  wear  it  if  he  would  be  care- 
ful of  it.  Then  he  added,  playfully,  "  As  you  are  going  to 
sport  a  gold  watch,  you  ought  to  have  corresponding  clothes. 
Let  me  see  if  I  have  got  any  money  about  me."  He  took  from 
his  vest  pocket  a  roll  of  money,  and  counted  out  fifty  dollars. 
"There,  sir,  that  must  do  for  you  ;  and  you,  Sissy,"  for  so  he 
called  his  daughter,  "  you  must  have  some,  too," — and  he 
handed  her  an  equal  sum. 

"  But  Popsy,  you  have  none  left  for  yourself,"  exclaimed 
Willy. 

"  Yes,  I  have  over  twenty  dollars,  and  that  is  all  I  need  to- 
day, and  if  I  get  short  to-morrow  I  will  come  and  borrow  of  you 
rich  folks,  eh  ?"  replied  the  father 

This  had  occurred  before  he  left  27  Harrison  street,  and  as 
we  mentioned  before,  when  he  got  into  the  street,  the  Colonel 
knew  that  it  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock.  He  walked  up  to 
Franklin  street,  and  stopped  for  a  moment  to  get  a  glass  of 
brandy  in  at  Thomas  Riley's  Fifth  Ward  Hotel.  Then  he 
passed  across  to  Centre  street,  walking  on  the  north  side  of 
Franklin.  Little  tiid  poor  Mac  fear  that  there  was  an  enemy 
on  his  track,  watching  every  movement,  and  all  fof  the  purpose 
of  securing  his  watch  and  the  money  he  was  supposed  to  have 
about  his  person.  But  the  Colonel's  thoughts  were  of  the 
scene  he  had  left,  of  the  dear  .spot  where  he  had  spent  the 
evening.  He  passed  Elm  street,  and  was  opposite  the 
Tombs,  on  the  side  where  the  arsenal  yard  then  stood.  He 
felt  a  blow,  and  stars  sparkled  in  his  eyes,  and  he  remembered 
no  more.  Tha  first  recollection  after  this  was  of  partly  lying 
on  a  wet  sidewalk  close  to  the  board  fence.  The  rain  was 
pouring  in  torrents.  It  was  pitch  dark.  The  Tombs  loomed 
up  opposite  to  him,  and  he  only  recognized  that  massive 
Egyptian  architecture  by  the  light  of  the  lamp  over  the  Frank- 
lin street  entrance.  The  Colonel  was  amazed.  He  remained 
still  for  some  time,  and  tried  to  recollect  what  had  happened. 
"  I  must  have  fallen  down  ;  but  it  did  not  rain  when  I  was 
walking.  It  is  very  queer.  I  certainly  was  not  drunk  ;  and 
where  is  my  hat  7  It  must  be  after  eleven  o'clock.  I  will 
hurry  on  to  Harry's  place.  He  may  not  have  shut  up  yet." 


VIGOR.  313 

These  were  his  thoughts.  With  great  difficulty  he  stood  upon 
his  feet.  He  could  not  find  his  hat.  This  annoyed  him.  The 
idea  of  Colonel  Mac  Neil  doing  such  a  shocking  Ahing  as  to 
walk  through  the  street  without  his  hat  worried  him  extremely, 
lie  had  never  had  such  a  disrespectable  affair  occur  during  a 
long  life.  He  felt  confident  of  one  thing;  he  had  not  been  so 
drunk  as  not  to  know  what  he  was  about.  Then  he  kept  on  to 
Centre  street.  He  walked — walked — and  turned  and  looked 
about  him.  Not  a  store  was  open,  not  a  light  visible,  save  the 
lamps  of  the  street.  His  head  felt  queeY,  but  he  kept  on. 
Again  and  again  did  he  stop  and  look  about  him.  Not  a  place, 
or  corner,  or  house  could  he  recognize.  At  last  he  came  to  an 
open  spot.  It  still  rained,  but  as  it  poured  upon  his  head,  tho 
Colonel  seemed  relieved.  Then  he  found  himself  close  to  an 
iron  railing,  and  he  sat  down  upon  the  stone  foundation.  "I 
ought  to  know  this  spot,"  he  exclaimed,  aloud.  Just  then,  di- 
rectly over  his  head,  pealed  out  the  deep  tones  of  a  bell. 
"  One,"  "  two,"  "  three,"  "  four,"  "  five,"  he  counted,  and  the 
bell  ceased  to  strike,  and  its  dying  notes  vibrated  off  into  the 
upper  air.  "  As  I  live,  that  is  St.  John's  Church.  This  is 
the  park,  and  it  is  five  o'clock.  Great  God  !  what  is  the  matter 
with  me  ?  This  is  the  most  singular  thing  that  ever  happened 
to  me  in  my  life.  I  wi41  go  to  some  hotel,  for  I  feel  weak." 
He  arose  with  difficulty,  and  tottered  towards  Hudson  street. 
Here  he  recognized  his  whereabouts,  and  he  turned  down  town. 
When  he  reached  Harrison  street,  he  recognized  that  street 
"  Ah  !  there  are  my  loved  ones.  I  will  go  there  ;  but  no,  I 
won't  do  it,  either,  poor  things."  Even  in  that  hour  of  dis- 
tress, sick,  wet  to  the  skin,  without  a  hat,  he  preferred  to  suf- 
fer himself  rather  than  discompose  Jane  or  disturb  the  rest  of 
his  children.  He  turned  up  Chambers  street,  and  walked 
slowly  across  to  Centre  street.  It  was  becoming  lighter  every 
moment,  and  as  he  reached  the  store  No.  46  Centre  street, 
Jemmy,  the  clerk,  was  opening  the  front  door.  The  Colonel 
got  inside  and  grasped  a  chair. 

"  What  do  you  want  ]"  exclaimed  Jemmy. 

"  My  God,  Jemmy,  it  is  me,  Colonel  Mac  Neil." 

In  a  moment  Jemmy  closed  the  door  and  lit  one  of  the  gas- 
lights, and  then  as  he  gazed  at  the  hatless  Colonel,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Gracious  Heaven,  Colonol,  what  has  happened  ?" 

"  Really,  Jemmy,  nothing  particular.  I've  lost  my  hat  some- 
how," replied  the  Colonel. 

"  Why,  you  are  covered  with  blood.  You  lip  is  cut  open, 
and  your  hair,  Colonel,  is  filled  with  blood." 

14 


314  VIGOR. 

"  I  am  faint,  Jemmy.  Give  me  a  glass  of  spirits — any  thing,*' 
said  the  exhausted  man. 

In  a  moment  it  wag  procured  and  drank. 

"  Examine  me,  Jemmy,  and  see  what  is  the  matter." 

Jemmy  examined  his  head.  In  the  back  were  two  deep  cuts, 
from  which  the  Colonel  must  have  bled  freely.  Three  front 
teeth  had  been  knocked  out,  and  the  under  lip  was  laid  open, 
and  fell  down  almost  to  the  chin.  Jemmy  told  him  all  this, 
and  went  and  procured  a  glass,  in  which  the  Colonel  could  see 
reflected  his  ghastly,  bloody  appearance. 

"  I  have  had  a  severe  fall." 

"  Fall,  Colonel !  You  have  been  knocked  down.  Where  is 
your  money  ?" 

The  Colonel  attempted  to  put  his  hands  in  his  vest  pockets. 
They  were  turned  inside  out.  Not  a  cent  was  about  him. 

"  I  have  been  robbed,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Knocked  down  and 
robbed.  That  is  it,  is  it  not,  Jemmy  ?  Well,  I  am  thankful 
that  I  have  not  brought  myself  into  such  a  disrespectable  po- 
sition by  being  drunk." 

"  Had  you  much  money  atiout  you,  Colonel  ?"  asked  Jemmy, 
who  exhibited  the  deepest  sympathy  for  the  Colonel's  misfor- 
tunes, and  who  had  ever  treated  him  with  the  greatest  res 
pect. 

"  I  had,  Jemmy,  over  a  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  and  my 
gold  watch  and  chain  last  night." 

"  And  all  is  gone,  Colonel  ?"  exclaimed  Jemmy. 

"  No.     Hang  the  rascal   or  rascals,   they  got   bit,    Jemmy. 
I  left  my  watch  with  some  dear  friends,  and  a  hundred   dollars 
of  my  money  also,  so  that  I  have  only   been   robbed  of  about 
twenty  dollars.     Curse  them,"  said  the  Colonel,   who    seemt'i 
pleased  that  he  had  done  the  pickpockets  out  of  some  plunde  . 
Do  you  suspect  any  one,  Colonel  ?"  asked  Jemmy. 
I  ?  not  one.     No  body  that  I  know  would  rob  me." 
Who  was  with  yolt  last  yesterday,  in  this  place  ?" 
The  Count  Falsechinski,  Monck  and  O'Doemall." 
Did  any  one  of  them  know  that  you  had  money,  Colonel  ? 
asked  Jemmy. 

"  To  be  sure  they  did.  Two  of  them  gave  me  what  I  had 
and  they  certainly  would  not  rob  me  of  it,"  said  Mac  Neil. 

"  Not  likely  ;  and  the  third  one,  Colonel,  was  Mr.  O'Doemall 
You  yourself  called  him  a  scamp  yesterday,  and  ordered  him 
out  of  the  store.  He  saw  that  Count  hand  you  the  money.  I 
will  bet  all  the  money  I  have  in  the  world,  that  Mr.  O'Doemall 


VIGOR.  SI  5 

was  the  man  who  knocked   you   down   and    robbed    you,"    ex- 
claimed Jemmy. 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  Jemmy.  That  can't  be.  John  O'Doemall  is 
a  hard  case,  but  he  would  not  commit  a  robbery.  Besides,  how 
could  he  know  where  I  was  to  be  found  last  night  at  eleven 
o'clock  ?"  exclaimed  Colonel  Mac  Neil. 

"  Well,  Colonel,  there  is  no  proof  of  it,  but  my  opinion  can- 
not be  easily  shaken,  that  the  fellow  O'Doemall  robbed  you 
last  night ;  but  I  must  open  and  put  the  store  to  rights,"  said 
Jemmy. 

"  And  I,  Jemmy,  will  go  and  change  my  dirty  linen  and 
wash  up." 

When  the  Colonel  got  bnck  to  his  bureau  and  the  glass,  he 
discovered  that  he  was  severely  hurt,  and  the  wounds  pained 
him  extremely.  He  washed,  changed  his  linen,  arranged  his 
hair,  and  even  while  performing  these  operations,  he  called  to 
Jemmy  to  bring  him  a  glass  of  brandy  and  sugar. 

It  had  now  become  broad  daylight.  The  rain  had  cleared 
off,  and  the  sun  was  up.  It  was  a  beautiful  day.  Presently 
Harry,  the  proprietor,  entered  the  store.  He  was  the  Colonel's 
old  porter,  and  he  was  much  attached  to  him.  He  heard  the 
Colonel  relate  what  had  happened,  and  his  sympathy  was  so 
much  excited  that  he  went  at  once  to  a  physician  and  brought 
him  to  the  store.  The  doctor  sewed  up  the  lip  with  a  single 
stitch.  He  dressed  the  wounds  in  the  back  of  the  Colonel's 
head,  but  the  Colonel  continued  to  grow  worse,  and  he  felt 
very  weak.  He  drank  again,  and  then  Harry  called  his  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  in  this  manner. 

"  Colonel,  we  are  old  friends,  and  I  advise  you  to  let  up  a 
little.  You  have  received  two  or  three  very  ugly  wounds, 
you  have  a  great  deal  of  liquor  in  your  system,  and  I  afraid 
that  you  will  bring  on  inflammation  of  the  brain  or  some  other 
thing,  unless  you  give  way  a  little." 

The  Colonel  for  once  was  cowed.  He  was  not  himself,  and 
was  frightened. 

"  I  know,  Harry,  all  you  would  say.  I  feel  as  though  I  shall 
have  a  fit  of  the  horrors.  I  want  to  stop  drinking,  God  knows, 
but  I  can't.  I  must  drink  this  morning.  See  how  my  very 
hand  shakes,  and  yet  I  have  drank  four  glasses  of  brandy  this 
morning.  Try  and  get  me  some  thing  that  will  lie  on  my 
stomach.  Make  me  an  egg  nogg,  and  put  three  raw  eggs  in  it. 
Don't  be  alarmed,  Harry.  I  have  drank  so  much  recently, 
that  all  I  can  get  down  now  will  not  make  me  intoxicated.  It 
only  brings  me  up  to  an  even  keel.  I  am  drinking  up  on  dead 


316  VIGOR. 

liquor.     If  I  were  to  knock  off  suddenly,  I  should  die,"    said 
the  Colonel. 

Harry  went  and  procured  the  egg  nogg,  and  Mac  Neil  got 
it  down. 

"  Now  Mac  Neil,"  said  the  good-natured  rumseller,  "  don't 
drink  any  more  for  some  time." 

"  I  will  not — indeed  I  will  not ;  I  will  keep  quiet,"  said  the 
Colonel — and  he  honestly  intended  to  do  so. 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  before  Marior  Monck  arrived.  He 
too  had  drank  to  excess  the  evening  previous,  and  went  at 
once  to  the  bar  to  procure  '  a  hair  of  the  dog  that  had  bitten 
him' — in  other  words,  to  get  a  mint  julep.  He  had  just  finished 
drinking  it  when  Jemmy  pointed  out  the  Colonel  in  the  rear 
of  the  store,  and  told  him  what  had  happened.  Marion  was 
shocked,  and  went  at!once  to  the  Colonel,  who  appeared  very 
glad  to  see  him. 

"  I  am  very  ill,  Marion,"  said  he,  in  a  low  tone  of  voice.  "  I 
feel  I  am  getting  worse  every  hour." 

"  Any  thiog  that  I  can  do  to  relieve  you,  Colonel  Mac  Neil, 
I  will  do  cheerfully  and  willingly.  Here  comes  Mr.  Charles." 

The  latter  approached,  and  after  expressing  his  sympathy, 
exclaimed, 

"  Colonel,  you  must  be  attended  to  without  delay.  You  are 
in  a  bad  state  ;  why  not  allow  us  to  take  you  to  the  hospital  1" 

"The  hospital!  —  "why,  my  dear  fellow,  I  have  a  horror 
of  that  place  ;  but  perhaps  you  are  right.  Can  I  have  a 
room  there  ?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

"  Certingly.  Good  physician,  good  nurse,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing.  It  will  only  cost  twelve  dollars  to  enter,  and  I  don't 
think  you  will  be  there  a  week.  A  few  days'  nursing  will 
bring  you  around  all  right,"  replied  Charley. 

"  But  the  money,  man  !  I  was  robbed  last  night,  and  have 
none  left." 

"  Not  a  word  about  that.  I  have  plenty,  and  will  go  at  once 
to  the  hospital  and  make  arrangements  for  your  reception.  I 
know  them  all  up  there,  and  it  will  be  all  right,"  exclaimed 
Marion. 

".Good  boy— fine  boy.  Do  as  you  please  ;  and  Charley,  you 
will  remain  with  me  ;  don't  leave  me  till  I  go  up  there,  eh  ?" 
was  the  Colonel's  request. 

"  No,  old  fellow,  I  will  stay  by  you  ;  never  say  die.  You 
are  worth  a  dozen  dead  men  yet,"  said  Charles. 

"  Charles,  you  are  experienced.  I  have  a  dread  of  having 
the  delirium  tremens — a  horrible  dread  of  it  Now  if  I  go  to 


VIGOR.  317 

the  hospital,  and  they  cut  me  off  short  with  tod,  God  knows 
what  will  become  of  me.  If  they  let  me  taper  off — give  me  a 
little  now  and  then,  to  keep  the  nerves  braced,  I  think  I  shall 
get  over  it,  eh  ?"  pleadingly  put  in  poor  Mac,  woo  was  awfully 
scared,  and  well  he  might  be. 

"  They  know  just  what  to  do  up  at  the  hospital  ;  have  no 
fear,  Colonel.  But  here  comes  Marion.  Well,  what  suc- 
cess ?"  asked  Charles. 

'  •  I  have  paid  the  twelve  dollars,  informed  Mr.  Roberts 
about  you, 'and  at  any  moment  when  you  are  ready  to  go,  we 
will  accompany  you.  You  need  not  take  any  things,  for  I  will 
come  and  see  you  every  day,"  replied  Marion. 

The  Colonel  drew  a  long  sigh,  then  cast  a  look  at  the  bu- 
reau, and  exclaimed,  "  Good  bye,  old  mahogany.  I  don't 
know  that  I  am  doing  right.  I  feel  bad,  and  sadly  perplexed. 
I  have  an  idea  that  1  shall  never  see  this  place  or  my  old  bu- 
reau again.  I  will  die  game,  though,  if  I  am  to  die — but  I 
must  have  a  drink  before  1  start.  Jemmy,  make  a  stiff  glass 
of  old  brandy  and  sugar.*  Suppose  you  all  join  uic — who  knows 
but  it  may  be  my  last  drink  ?" 

The  drinks  were  taken  all  round.  Harry  the  proprietor  ap- 
proved highly  of  the  course  that  the-Colonel  had  determined 
to  pursue.  He  was  afraid  that  he  should  have  trouble,  and  he 
had  no  idea  but  that  the  hospital  was  the  best  place  for  the 
Colonel  under  the  circumstances.  All  hands  talked  cheeringly 
to  the  desponding  Colonel,  until  at  last  he  felt  cheered  up  him- 
self. He  shook  hands  with  all  except  Marion  and  Mr.  Charles, 
who  were  to  accompany  him  to  the  hospital,  see  him  safe  in- 
side his  room,  and  then  return. 

They  reached  the  open  gate  on  Broadway,  and  the  Colonel 
halted  for  a  moment,  and  looked  up*  and  down  the  street  as 
though  he  expected  to  see  some  one.  Then  as  he  passed  the 
inner  gate  where  the  gate-keeper's  house  is,  Mac  observed,  "I 
hope  my  case  in  entering  this  gate  is  not  like  one  of  those 
where  '  he  who  enters  here  leaves  hope  behind,'  eh  ?  .  I  hope 
1  am  not  in  that  category,  Marion  ?" 

Marion  replied  soothingly — and  yet  he  felt  embarrassed.  He 
did  not  know  that  he  was  doing  right,  and  he  could  not  make 
up  his  mind  that  he  was  doing  wrong.  If,  for  a  moment,  the 
least  idea  had  flashed  across  his  mind,  he  would  have  faced 
about  and  taken  the  Colonel  back  to  46  Centre  street.  The 
party  rcaqhed  the  office,  and  directions  were  given  to  conduct 
Colonel  Mac  Neil  to  a  certain  ward.  A  nurse  was  sent  for, 
and  he  led  the  way,  followed  by  the  three  persons.  Wheu 


318  VIGOR. 

they  reached  the  right  ward  the  nurse  opened  the  door,  and  all 
entered.  The  door  closed,  and  Marion  noticed  that  it  locked 
itself. 

The  Colonel,  as  soon  as  he  saw  where  he  was,  exclaimed, 
"  Why,  this  is  not  a  single  room  !  I  am  not  going  to  remain 
here  !" 

The  nurse  replied  readily,  "  Oh,  certainly  not.  We  will 
have  a  room  ready  for  the  gentleman  presently.  He  can 
remain  here  for  the  present,  and  he  had  better  lie  down  for  a 
moment."  This  was  said  kindly,  and  the  Colonel;  who  was 
completely  exhausted,  observed, 

"  Well,  1  will  lay  down  a  moment.  Marion,  Charles,  you 
need  not  remain.  I  may  sleep  a  moment.  Come  back  to-mor- 
row, Marion — hear  ?" 

Marion  said  he  would  do  so.  The  nurse  applied  a  key  to  the 
door,  opened  it,  and  as  the  two  passed  into  the  hall  the  door 
closed  and  locked  again.  "  I  am  not  exactly  pleased  with  all 
this  business.  Why  is  not  the  Colonel's  room  ready  ?"  asked 
Marion. 

"  Nonsense.  He  will  have  no  room  except  that  or  the  inner 
lock-up.  Why,  that  is  the  delirium  tremens  ward,  and  there 
Mac  will  be  kept  until  he* dies  or  gets  over  it,"  coolly  replied 
Mr.  Charles. 

"  Good  God.  You  don't  mean  to  say  there  is  any  danger  of 
his  dying  of  delirium1?"  asked  Marion. 

"  He  is  pretty  near  it.  He  will  have  the  delirium  tremens 
most  certainly.  He  may  die.  He  may  not.  But  he  may  as  well 
die  in  that  room  as  in  the  street.  Besides,  with  all  the  rum 
he  has  got  in  his  blood,  and  the  bad  cuts  upon  his  head,  he 
will  have  a  bad  time  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Charles. 

When  the  two  reached  Broadway,  they  separated. 


CHAPTER    LIII. 

Thomas  Granville — A  Genttel  Loafer's  Daily  Record — Chfap  Lodging 
Houses  — The  Liberal  Sti  anger — .Tom  in  Funds  or,ctt  more — The  Strung*  r 
Walter  (rranville  places  Him  at  the  llottl  d*i  jParw — Dialogue  Heltveen 
Walter  drai.ville  and  Alias  A/orris  About  Tim. 

AFTER  the  return  of  Thomas  Granville  from  Europe,  his  for- 
tunes became  desperate.  He  seemed  past  hope.  He  had 
been  down  upon  the  ground.  The  human  car  was  off  the  track. 
The  President  of  the  United  State! — stern  old  Hickory — had 


VIGOR.  319 

picked  him  up,  placed  him  on  solid  ground,  and  started  him  a 
new  man.  He  went  out  Consul  to  a  city  in  Prance,  and  could 
have  restored  himself  to  position,  wealth  and  influence.  Un- 
der the  sad  guidance  of  Clara  Norris,  he  had  ruined  his  repu- 
tation, squandered  his  property,  and  completely  used  up  those 
friends  who  had  re-rallied  about  him.  He  had  not  been  in  the 
city  of  New  York  many  days  before  he  fully  realized  the  con- 
trast between  holding  an  official  position,  having  plenty  of 
money,  and  recognized  by  respectable  relatives,  and  the  loss 
of  all  these  advantages.  How  he  lived,  no  man  but  himself 
ever  knew.  He  managed  sometimes  to  make  a  few  shillings 
by  singing  at  a  garden  concert,  or  a  free  concert  in  some  by 
street.  He  went  to  such  places  and  performed  under  an  as- 
sumed name.  He  might  have  used  his  real  one  ;  no  one  would 
have  troubled  his  head  about  him.  Sometimes  Tom  was  almost 
in  despair,  for  he  really  suffered.  He  went  to  "haunts  fre- 
quented by  old  friends  aird  acquaintances.  There  he  could 
always  obtain  a  drink,  and  nibble  a  cracker  and  cheese.  As 
days  passed  on,  matters  grew  worse,  instead  of  better.  It  was 
rare  that  Tom  Granville  had  over  a  quarter.  He  had  no  regu- 
lar place  to  sleep,  but  found  a  bed  in  some  lodging.  If  he  had 
three  shillings,  he  went  to  Tammany  JEIall.  If  only  a  quarter, 
to  a  neat  lodging-house  in  Pearl  street,  near  Broadway.  If 
only  a  shilling,  Tom  went  to  a  lodging-house  in  Chatham  street, 
near  Duane.  There  he  got  a  bed  in  a  room  where  several  oth- 
ers slept,  and  Tom  had  to  be  satisfied.  It  was  better  than 
sleeping  in  the  Park,  or  walking  the  streets  in  a  cold  winter 
night.  Sometimes  Tom  would  be  the  delight  of  an  audience 
in  a  low  bar-room  where  liquor  was  sold  for  three  cents  a  glass, 
and  his  droll  stories  in  a  dark  room  in  a  lodging-house  to  the 
other  queer  lodgers  in  the  various  beds,  would  make  the  occu- 
pants scream  with  laughter,  and  their  first  questions  at  day- 
break would  be  for  the  funny  man  who  had  told  stories  or  sang 
songs  in  the  dark  the  night  previous.  What  a  happy  disposi- 
tion, that  amid  scenes  like  these,  and  hardships  even  worse 
than  we  have  narrated,  could  keep  up  and  lose  none  of  its  elas- 
ticity. 

There  was  scarcely  a  low  priced  lodging-house  in  the  lower 
part  of  New  York  that  had  not  had  the  honor  of  having,  as  a 
lodger,  Thomas  Granville.  Occasionally,  there  would  be  ad- 
ventures connected  with  them  of  a  very  ludicrous  character. 

Late  at  night,  on  one  occasion,  Tom  found  that  he  had  a  sol- 
itary shilling  left.  He  wanted  a  drink  badly.  The  place  in 
which  he  found  himself  was  a  three  cent  shop  in  Cross  street, 


320  TIG  OK. 

kept  by  Peter  Melville.  There  were  several  loafers  around 
the  stove,  for  it  was  a  bitter  cold  night.  Tom  knew  them  all, 
but  not  one  had  a  cent,  and  business  was  at  a  dead  stand.  The 
excellent  Melville  showed  symptoms  of  closing  up.  Tom  was 
dry.  He  was  as  dry  as  a  pump  is  said  to  be  when  there  is  not 
a  drop  of  water  in  it.  He  determined  to  have  one  more  drink, 
anyhow.  The  landlord  looked  untrusling.  Tom  drew  near  the 
bar. 

"  My  lord  Melville,  will  you  give  me  a  glass  of  your  most 
excellent,  I  might  say  exquisite  whiskey  V 

"  Have  you  got  the  money  to  pay  for  it,  Tom  ?"  asked  the 
proprietor. 

"  Excellent  Melville,  I  regret  to  say  I  have  not,  but  assur- 
edly, if  you  will  trust  me  until  this  hour  to-morrow,  by  Her- 
cules, the  three  cents  shall  be  in  your  hands,"  said  Tom. 

"  I  won't  do  it,"  replied  Melville^ 

"  Inexorable  Melville,  say  not  so.  Remember,  worthy  sou 
of  the  land  where  Wallace  bled,  that  '  'Tis  a  little  thing  to  give 
a  glass  of  Scotch  whiskey.  But  its  draught  of  warm  refresh- 
ment, drained  by  chilled  lips,  will  give  a  shock  of  pleasure  to 
the  frame  more  exquisite  than  when  wine  its  nectarine  riches 
pours.'  Ah,  stern  man,  pour  out  one  glass,  for  poor  Tom's 
a-cold." 

The  comic  look  which  Tom  gave  the  keeper,  as  he  pro- 
nounced these  words,  upset  the  Scotchman's  gravity.  He 
handed  over  the  decanter  to  Tom,  and  told  him  to  help  himself. 
"  But  no  more,  Tom,  to-night,"  he  added.  Tom  drank  off.  the 
wine,  and  then  continued,  "  '  'Tis  a  little  thing  to  speak  a  word 
of  kindness,  but  falling  upon  the  ear  of  him  who  thought  to  die 
unmourned,  it  sounds  like  gentlest  music.'  You  have  spoken 
that  word  to  me,  my  Melville,  and  I  thank  you.  Good  night," 
— and  Tom  felt  in  his  pocket  to  see  that  his  shilling  was  safe 
to  pay  for  his  lodging,  and  then  hurried  out  into  the  cold  air  to 
go  and  seek  his  lodging-house.  He  paid  his  shilling  and  hast- 
ened up  to  the  room,  where  he  found  a  dozen  men  in  different 
beds.  He  selected  one  that  was  unoccupied,  and  was  soon  fast 
asleep.  In  the  morning,  he  was  up  by  daylight,  for  he  was 
almost  crazy  to  get  a  drink  of  water — grog — any  thing.  Ho 
hastened  down  stairs.  There  was  a  bar  in  the  room,  and  pie 
was  kept  upon  a  plate  at  one  end  of  it.  The  boy  was  dressing 
when  Tom  came  down. 

"  I'll  let  you  out  in  a  moment,  Mister,"  he  said. 

"  Hurry,  then,"  replied  Tom,  and  he  put  his  hand  in  his  coat 
pocket. 


VIGOR.  321 

The  boy  had  his  eye  upon  him. 

"  None  of  that.  I  saw  you.  Put  that  back  again,"  said  the 
boy,  as  he  approached  Tom,  angrily. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  are  you  talking  about  ?"  said 
the  unconscious  Tom. 

"  You  just  put  that  piece  of  mince  pie  back  on  thetplate,  or 
pay  me  two  cents  for  it,"  said  the  boy,  in  a  very  determined 
manner." 

Tom  began  to  understand.  "  Why,  you  impudent  son  of  a 
gun,  do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  have  taken  any  of  your 
uasty  pie  ?"  exclaimed  Tom,  indignantly. 

"  I  know  you  put  it  in  your  pocket.  I  saw  you  whan  you 
did  it.  Fork  over,"  said  the  boy,  or  rather  the  young  man,  for 
he  was  full  grown. 

This  was  too  much  for  our  philosopher  Tom.  The  young 
man  seized  him,  and  Tom  then  gave  him  a  blow  which  sent  him 
reeling.  In  a  moment  he  had  unlocked  and  opened  the  door, 
and  was  in  Chatham  street,  and  he  ran  as  if  for  life.  He  felt 
how  ridiculous  it  would  be  to  be  arrested  for  knocking  the  fel- 
low down,  and  to  be  charged,  too,  .with  stealing  two  cents' 
worth  of  mince  pice.  He — Thomas  Grranville — ex-Consul  to 
a  city  in  France  !  He  ran  the  faster  as  he  thought  of  all  these 
things,  and  never  stopped  until  he  was  near  Melville's,  where 
he  had  spent  the  previous  evening.  Melville's  place  was  not 
open,  but  a  few  doors  below  there  was  a  grog-shop  opened.  In 
his  emergency,  Tom  entered  that,  approached  the  stove,  and 
took  a  seat.  How  the  slightest  circumstance  will  sometimes 
etfect  a  change  in  one's  whole  life.  Jemmy,  the  bar-keeper  of 
Harry,  hud  just  opened  and  fixed  up  the  place.  He  made  an 
observation  to  Tom  that  it  was  a  cold  morning.  Tom  replied, 
and  then  roared  with  laughter.  Jemmy  was  not  exactly 
pleased,  and  Tom  good-naturedly  related  the  pie  story  and  his 
narrow  escape.  The  comic  manner  in  which  Tom  related  it 
was  inimitable,  and  Jemmy  joined  in  as  chorus.  Jemmy  then 
invited  Tom  Granville  to  take  a  drink.  The  invitation  was 
.most  cheerfully  accepted.  Jemmy  was  pleased.  He  also  took 
a  djink.  It  was  cold  outside,  and  they  were  seated  by  a  warm 
fire.  Its  genial  influence  warmed  out  Tom,  and  in  less  than  au 
hour  he  had  Jemmy  so  completely  fascinated  that  Tom  could 
have  been  treated  with  the  whole  shop. 

Tom  had  no  coat,  and  his  clothes  were  seedy.  His  boots 
were  nearly  gone,  and  his  shirt,  it  had  not  been  changed  for  a 
month  or  more.  His  hat  shone  bright,  but  it  was  napless,  and 
yet  Tom  was  as  merry  this  cold  morning  as  if  he  had  the  wealth 


322  VIGOR. 

of  Astor.  Later  that  morning  customers  began  to  arrive,  aud 
Jemmy  had  to  go  behind  the  bar,  leaving  Tom  puffing  a  cigar 
at  the  stove,  and  seemingly  quite  happy.  Just  then  a  customer 
of  a  different  character  entered  the  place,  approached  the  bar, 
and  ordered  a  drink.  He  wore  a  fur  cap  and  a  bearskin  over- 
coat. He  had  partly  finished  the  drink  he  had  ordered  when 
his  eyes  rested  upon  the  pleasant  face  of  Tom. 

"  Great  God  !  it  cannot  be  possible  !"  he  exclaimed,  and  then, 
with  the  glass  in  bis  hand,  went  and  sat  himself  in  a  chair  next 
to  Tom  Granville.  "  Excuse  me,  sir,  but  is  not  your  name 
Thomas  Granville  ?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"  I  was  once  Sir  Thomas  Granville,  Esquire.  I  am-  now 
Tom  Granville,  or  plain  Tom,  at  your  service," — and  a  comic 
smile  played  over  his  expressive  features. 

"  When  have  you  seen  your  brother  Pitt  Granville  T"  the 
stranger  asked. 

"  Pitt — yes — my  brother  Pitt.  Oh,  it  is  a  long  time  since  I 
have  seen  Pitt,  but  it  is  much  longer  since  he  has  seen  me," 
said  Tom,  with  feeling. 

"  Then  you  and  your  brother  have  quarrelled,  eh  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  never  quarrel  with  my  brother.  He  has,  for 
good  reasons,  I  dare  say,  done  with  me.  That  is  his  business  ; 
not  ours,  sir,"  said  Tom. 

"  Suppose  you  join  me  in  a  drink,  Mr.  Granville." 

"  Mr.  Granville  !  Certingly,  with  pleasure.  Jemmy — a 
glass  of  hot  toddy — my  private  bottle,  you  understand.  I  am 
much  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  said  Tom. 

"  You  once  had  a  nephew,  Walter  Granville,  what  has  be- 
come of  him  ?"  the  stranger  continued. 

"  Ah,  there  you  touch  me.  A  fine  boy — a  noble  boy — gone 
to  sea.  Unheard  of  for  years.  Dead  probably.  The  good 
aye  die  young.  A  family  affair,  sir.  Here  is  to  your  very 
good  health,"  said  Tom.  Had  he  noticed  the  stranger,  he 
would  have  observed  that -he  appeare'd  to  be  very  much  af- 
fected. 

"  Your  own  wife,  Mr.  Granville,  where  is  she  ?"  asked  the 
stranger. 

"  In  Baltimore,  living  with  her  grandmother.  She  is  di- 
vorced from  me,"  replied  Tom. 

"  So  I  have  heard.  What  ever  became  of  one  of  her  sis- 
ters '("  asked  the  stranger. 

"  Which  one  ?     She  had  several,"  asked  Tom. 

"  Madison  Pinckney,"  said  the  stranger,  with  feeling. 

"  Oh  ;  she  married  a  young  fellow  named  Charles  Wharton, 


VIGOR.  323 

and  has  moved  to  Columbus,  Ohio.  A  very  good  match,  I  am 
told.  Have  you  got  any  more  questions  to  ask  ?  If  you  have, 
propel  ahead.  I  am  ready  to  answer  to  the  best  of  my  ability," 
observed  Tom. 

"  No  ;  I  have  no  more  to  ask  about  your  family.  I  have  one 
to  ask  about  yourself.  Suppose,  Mr.  Granville,  that  I,  a  stran- 
ger, should  say  to  you,  '  Mr.  Granville,  go  with  me  to  different 
stores.  Buy  an  overcoat,  a  coat,  a  vest  a  pair  of  pantaloons,  a 
pair  of  boots,  a  new  hat,  shirts,  underclothes,  socks,  a  necktie, 
and  any  thing  else  that  a  gentleman  needs,  and  I  will  pay  for 
them,'  what  would  you  reply  ?  and  what  would  you  think  of  me 
when  I,  as  I  do  now,  make  you  such  an  offer  ?"  said  the 
stranger. 

"  I  should  say  yes,  and  I  should  think  that  you  were  a  par- 
ticular d d  fool,"  replied  honest  Tom. 

"  Perhaps  I  should  be  ;  but  why  do  you  think  so,  Mr.  Gran- 
ville ?"  pleasantly  asked  the  stranger. 

"  Because,  sir,  I  am  poor.  I  am  dead  broke.  I  don't  have 
food  half  of  the  time.  How  long  do  you  think,  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, I  should  keep  my  good  clothes  ?  Why  sir,  in  less 
than  a  week,  or  a  month  at  most,  those  articles  would  all  go  to 
a  pawnbroker,  and  I  should  fall  back  upon  the  old  rags,  sir. 
That  is  truth — don't  you  think  it  is,  Jemmy  ?''  said  Tom,  as  he 
aprealed  to  Jem,  who  had  been  an  attentive  listener  for  some 
moments. 

"  It  may  be,  but  if  the  gentleman  makes  you  the  offer  I 
would  accept  it.  It  won't  do  you  any  harm  to  do  so,"  said 
Jemmy. 

The  stranger  rose.  "  Come,  Mr.  Granville,  and  go  with  me. 
When  you  have  all  these  things  I  have  named,  then  we  must 
try  and  get  some  money,  or  food,  or  a  place  to  board.  One 
thing  at  a  time.  Will  you  go  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  will — but  first  let  me  ask  who  you  are  V  said  Tom. 

'•  Call  me  Smith,  until  we  are  better  acquainted,"  replied 
the  stranger. 

"  Well  Smith,  you  are  a  devilish  gnod-looking  young  fellow, 
but  decidedly  mad.  I  will  go  with  you." 

The  parties  left  the  place,  and  left  a  wondering  set  of  people 
in  it.  Jemmy  the  bar-keeper  was  the  most  astonished  of  all. 
He  could  not  make  it  out. 

It  was  near  midday  before  Tom  Granville  and  hi^ friend 
Smith  returned  to  46  Centre  street  Thomas  Granville  was  a 
different  person.  He  was  dressed  like  a  gentleman,  and  his 
actions  did  not  belie  his  dress.  Every  article  was  new,  and  of 


324  VIGOR. 

the  finest  quality.  The  stranger  evidently  did  not  do  tilings 
by  halves.  He  ordered  drinks  for  all  in  the  room.  When 
they  had  been  taken,  he  said  to  Thomas  Granville,  "  Now  sir, 
I  will  bid  you  good-bye  ;  but  I  will  meet  you  at  your  hotel 
this  evening  at  precisely  seven  o'clock,  Remember  what  you 
have  promised,  and  don't  break  it.  Good-bye." 

Tom  shook  his  head,  and  after  he  had  left,  he  observed  to 
Jemmy,  "  That  chap  is  mad — quite  mad." 

"  What  did  he  mean  by  your  hotel,  eh  ?"  asked  Jemmy. 

"  Mean  ?  Why  I  am  stopping  at  a  hotel.  It  is  Vigin's 
French  Hotel  de  Paris,  corner  of  Reade  street  and  Broadway, 
No.  34 — best  room  in  the  house.  Paid  my  board  one  month 
in  advance,  thirty-two  dollars — eight  dollars  a  week,  eh  ?  See 
the  receipt.  What  do  you  think  of  that,  Jemmy  ?"  said  the 
delighted  Tom. 

"  Who  can  he  be  ?    What  was  the  promise  ?"  asked  Jemmy. 

"  Smith  is  his  name — I  promised  not  to  get  very  drunk,  but 
to  be  sober  at  seven  o'clock  this  evening.  Bless  your  heart, 
I  will  be  as  sober  as  a  judge  !"  exclaimed  the  enthusiastic  Tom. 

"  He  is  a  good  friend,"  observed  Jemmy. 

"  He  gave  me  ten  dollars,  and  advised  me  to  pay  what  I 
owed  here,  or  any  where  else  in  a  small  way.  How  much  do 
I  owe  you,  Jemmy  ?"  asked  Tom. 

"  Not  a  red  cent,  Mr.  Granville.  You  are  perfectly  welcome 
to  what  you  have  had,"  replied  Jemmy. 

"  Thank  you,  Jemmy.  But  what  a  breakfast  we  had  at  that 
French  hotel !  O  my  !  That  Smith  understands  good  living. 
He  is,  a  perfect  prince,"  exclaimed  Tom. 

We  must  now  follow  the  stranger.  He  had  no  sooner  parted 
from  Thomas  Granville,  than  he  turned  his  course  to  Bond 
street,  and  entered  the  house  of  Mrs.  Woodruff.  He  walked 
up  stairs,  and  entered  the  front  room  on  the  second  floor. 
There  was  a  lady  in  the  room,  who  rose  as  he  entered.  He 
gave  her  an  affectionate  kiss,  and  observed, 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  dear  Clara,  for  enabling  me  to  do  a 
good  deed.  0,  if  you  knew  how  fur  that  hundred  dollars  haa 
gone  !  But  sit  down,  and  let  me  tell  you  all  about  poor  Tom." 

She  listened,  and  he  related  the  particulars  of  the  interview 
which  our  readers  are  aware  of.  She  wept,  and  at  last  observed, 
"  If  it  will  only  do  any  good,  I  shall  be  glad.  I  do  it  and 
will  <ft  more — but  mind  me,  Walter,  it  is  for  you,  not  for  Tom. 
I  have  come  to  hate  him — to  luite  him,"  she  repeated,  em- 
phatically. 

"  Never  mind  your  motive,  dear  Clara.     You  have  enabled 


VIGOR.  325 

me  to  benefit  my  uncle,  and  I  thank  you  for  so  doing,"  said 
Walter  Granville,  for  he  was  the  stranger  that  had  so  electri- 
fied the  crowd  at  No.  46  Centre  street. 

"  And  will  Tom  come  up  here  to-night  with  you?"  she  asked. 

"  He  will,  and  then  I  will  tell  him  who  I  am,  and  that  I 
should  not  have  been  able  to  do  what  I  have  but  for  you.  Now 
let  us  go  and  walk.  Are  you  ready  ?''  said  Walter. 

"  I  will  be  in  half  an  hour — remain  quiet  until  then."  And 
she  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER   LIT. 

The  New  York  City  Ho^ital—A  sad  Chapter— &l,nt  I  Mac  Nel  in  tht 
Jhlirium  TremeriS  Ward — Stern  Tnatm-nt  of  Patients  in  th  it  Ward — • 
The  attack  of  th--  Mnniac  vpon  the  Jt-fidtnt  Physician  —  The  Colonfl 
chained — 7/i*  De-i'h — Th-body  in  the  Dt«.d  House — The  horro-  of  AJtirivn 
Monclc — Distress  in  Ilarihon  street — Tht  BMy  <f  tlie  Colonel  taken  to  his 

Home. 

• 

THOSE  who  pass  up  and  down  Broadway  in  the  great  city, 
must  have  noticed  on  its  west  side  the  dark,  gloomy  building 
known  as  the  "  New  York  Hospital."  Seen  from  the  street, 
it  looks  like  some  gloomy  old  castle,  with  its  iron  railing,  the 
green  lawn,  tue  venerable  elms,  and  the  gate-keeper's  lodge. 
It  is  a  pleasant  place  to  look  at  from  the  outside,  and  but  few 
are  aware  of  the  horrors  that  are  daily  witnessed  inside.  The 
stabbed,  the  accidentally  injured,  the  suicide  who  has  only 
partly  done  his  work,  the  almost  maniac, on  the  eve  of  deiirium 
treinens,  pass  inside  those  iron  gates  without  notice  or  com- 
ment. Sailors  who  have  paid  United  States  Hospital  moncv, 
no  matter  what  may  be  their  disease,  are  entitled  to  be  received 
into  that  hospital  free  of  charge,  to  the  extent  of  one  hundred 
at  a  time.  The  sick  or  wounded  man  who  can  raise  twelve 
dollars  to  pay  the  admission  foe,  can  find  a  home  and  medical 
attendance  until  he  is  cured  by  medicine  or  death.  In  either 
case  he  pays  no  more  than  the  twelve  dollars. 

In  the  basement  floor  of  what  is  called  the  North  building 
is  one  large  room,  capable  of  holding  five  or  six  small  iron 
bedsteads^  The  door  has  a  strong  spring  lock,  and  fastens  of 
itself.  IThe  large  window  to  this  room  is  strongly  barred  with 
great  stout  iron  bars,  that  no  human  strength  can  wrench  or 
tear  asunder.  There  are  three  doors  that  lead  out  of  this  room. 
One  opens  into  a  ceil,  where  there  is  no  window.  Nothing 


326  VIGOR. 

but  four  solid  walls,  and  an  iron  bedstead.  Not  an  article  of 
furniture  else  is  in  this  room.  Another  door  leads  to  a  bath 
room.  Here  too  the  windows  are  barred  with  iron  staunch- 
ions.  Another  opens  into  the  nurse's  room,  and  this  door  also 
closes  with  a  spring  lock,  and  like  the  main  door,  has  to  be 
opened  with  a  key.  This  room  or  ward  is  called  the  delirium 
tremens  ward  of  the  Hospital.  Into  this  are  thrust  those  pa- 
tients who  are  brought  to  the  hospital  laboring  under  this  fear- 
ful malady,  or  when  it  is  suspected  that  it  will  break  out,  from 
the  fact  that  the  patient  has  been  drinking  freely,  and  has  suf- 
fered or  is  suffering  from  want  of  sleep.  This  is  the  most 
fearful  ward  in  the  Hospital,  and  the  nurse,  as  a  matter  of 
self-preservation  for  his  own  life,  and  the  lives  of  those  en- 
trusted to  his  care,  is  a  man  of  experience,  and  perfectly  hard- 
hearted. He  knows  no  feeling,  until  actual  observation  has 
convinced  him  of  the  danger  or  absence  of  it,  in  a  new  patient. 
No  mildness,  no  manner  or  language  of  a  perfect  gentleman, 
no  money  can  disarm  for  a  moment  the  fear  of  the  nurse  for  a 
new  comer.  The  moment  a  patient,  is  committed  to  his  ward, 
he  is  aivare  tkat  madness  is  the  main  complaint,  and  he  is  on 
the  watch  for  its  appearance  in  any  shape  or  at  any  moment. 
His  doors  are  locked.  His  eyes  are  as  watchful  as  a  cat's. 
He  orders  a  new  patient  to  undress  and  go  to  bed.  Frequently 
the  patient  refuses.  Force  is  at  once  used,  and  he  is  placed 
on  the  iron  bedstead,  and  every  particle  of  clothing  is  removed 
to  the  nurse's  own  room.  If  the  patient  becomes  more  obstre- 
perous, he  is  at  once  pinioned  to  the  bed,  or  a  straight  jacket 
put  upon  him,  and  a  hand  chained  to  each  side  of  the  bed.  This 
confinement  of  itself  would  almost  drive  a  sane  man  mad.  If 
the  patient  becomes  raving,  then  the  scene  is  changed.  He 
is  passed  into  the  dark  cell,  where  the  solitary  iron  bedstead 
is,  and  where  no  article  of  furniture  can  be  found  to  aid  him  in 
self-destruction.  Then  the  patient  may  yell  with  horror,  or 
utter  screams  that  thrill  the  stoutest  nerves,  or  die  in  madness. 
The  door  is  strong — the  walls  are  thick,  and  but  little  is  heard 
by  others,  however  fearful  the  agony.  Sometimes  the  patient 
tires  out  the  patience  "of  the  nurse,  and  then  he  forgets  the 
rules,  and  beats  his  patient  into  submission  until  death  takes 
up  the  cudgels,  and  finishes  what  the  indignant  nurse  had  only 
begun. 

The  regular  house  physician,  or  the  visiting  surgeon,  never 
enter  this  ward  without  fear,  and  a  full  appreciation  of  the  dan- 
ger. As  a  consequence,  when  a  patient  is  placed  in  this  ward, 
the  very  circumstances  attending  his  being  there,  or  the  mere 


VIGOR.  327 

fact  that  he  is  there,  shuts  him  out  from  all  human  sympathy 
and  kindness.  The  poor  inebriate  who  is  suffering  the  horrors 
of  abstinence  from  drink,  who  needs  kind  words,  and  encour- 
agement, and  soothing,  gets  none  in  this  ward.  He  sees  others 
chained  down  to  the  iron  beds — he  hears  the  horrid  screams 
of  the  one  in  the  dungeon — he  sees  them  die  in  beds  alongside 
of  his  own — he  hears  the  fearful  screams  until  death  seals  the 
lips.  If  he  had  not  the  seeds  of  delirium  already  in  his  blood, 
all  these  things,  and  such  horrid  surroundings  would  make 
him  mad.  Many  hundreds  of  worthy  men,  who  have  died  un- 
lamented  in  the  delirium  tremens  ward  of  the  Hospital,  might 
now  have  been  alive  and  well,  had  the  friends  or  relations  who 
placed  them  there  have  exercised  a  little  forbearance  and  a 
little  kindness.  That  treatment  of  a  man  who  has  been  drink- 
ing until  his  nerves  are  burning  wires,  who  cannot  sleep,  which 
suddenly  cuts  off  the  spirit  which  has  caused  the  difficulty  and 
the  danger,  and  leaves  the  shattered  nerves  to  sustain  the 
additional  horrors  of  confinement  among  madmen,  is  murder — 
and  such  is  the  practice  hourly  in  the  delirium  tremens  ward 
of  the  New  York  Hospital. 

Blessed  be  those  gallant,  glorious  men  who  have  inaugurated 
a  new  era  in  this  matter — who  have  started  into  existence  the 
"  Inebriate  Asylum." 

When  Colonel  Mac  Neil  was  placed  in  the  ward  we  have 
been  describing,  and  left  there  by  Marion  Monck  and  Mr. 
Charles,  he  laid  down  upon  one  of  the  iron  bedsteads.  He 
dozed  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  rose  up. 

"  Lie  down,"  said  the  nurse  Patrick. 

"  Who  are  you  addressing — me  ?  Where  is  my  room,  sir  ? 
I  will  not  remain  here  any  longer,"  said  the  indignant  Colonel; 
and  he  marched  proudly  to  the  door.  Of  course  he  found  it 
fastened.  "  Open  the  door,  sir,"  he  continued. 

Nurse  Patrick  went  to  another  door,  and  called  to  a  sort  of 
assistant.  The  other  man  came. 

"  Look  here,  Colonel,  you  must  take  off  your  clothes  and  go 
to  bed.  We  are  not  going  to  have  none  of  your  nonsense 
here,"  said  Patrick. 

"  Where  is  my  room,  sir  ?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

"  0,  blast  you  and  your  room  !  This  is  all  the  room  you  wiil 
have  iu  this  building.  Come,  strip,  or  I'll  do  it  for  you,"  said 
the  nurse,  and  he  approached  the  Colonel,  who  stood  near  the 
door. 

"  Stand  off,  I  say  !  or  if  you  touch  me  I  will  make  you  suffer 
for  it.  I  have  never  heard  of  such  impudence  !" 


328  VIGOR. 

The  Colonel,  as  he  said  this,  placed  himself  in  an  attitude  of 
defence. 

"Help  me,  Bill,"  exclaimed  Nurse  Patrick;  and  at  the 
same  moment  he  suddenly  jumped  upon  the  astonished  Col- 
onel. He  was  overpowered  in  a  twinkling,  and  the  nurse  and 
his  assistant  flung  him  on  his  back  upon  the  vacant  bed. 

"  This  is  outrageous  ! — infamous  ! — where  is  the  Superin- 
tendent? I  am  a  gentleman  ;  what  do  you  mean?  Are  you 
going  to  kill  me  ?"  muttered  poor  Mac  Neil.  But  it  was  of  no 
use  ;  in  a  moment  he  was  stripped  to  his  shirt ;  and  then  his 
clothes,  hat,  boots,  and  all  of  his  apparel  was  taken  to  another 
room. 

"  Now  get  into  bed  and  keep  quiet,  or  it  will  be  worse  for 
you,"  said  the  nurse  Patrick. 

The  Colonel  saw  that  resistance  was  useless  ;  he  made  no 
further  efforts,  but  determined  to  complain  to  the  doctor  when 
he  saw  him.  There  were  other  patients  in  the  room,  but  Mac 
Neil  did  not  notice  them.  He  lay  awake,  and  moments  seemed 
hours,  but  at  last  the  visiting  doctors  came — one  old  man  and 
two  young  ones.  They  sat  by  the  bed,  and  the  eldest  kept 
examining  Mac's  wounds.  The  Colonel  began  to  tell  who  he 
was,  and  to  complain  of  the  treatment. 

"  You  have  been  drinking,  sir,  and  you  are  placed  here  to 
be  cured,  and  we  will  try  and  cure  you  ;  when  that  is  done  we 
shall  listen  to  your  complaints.  Meantime  you  must  try  and 
get  some  sleep.  Your  condition,  without  you  get  sleep,  will 
be  a  critical  one,"  said  the  elder  doctor. 

The  Colonel  began  to  realize  his  position  :  he  asked  the 
doctor  if  he  thought  he  was  really  very  unwell. 

"  Yes  ;  you  will  probably  be  delirious  unless  you  get  sleep. 
I  will  order  some  medicine  that  will  give  you  sleep  probably. 
It  may  not.  How  long  since  you  have  had  any  sleep  ?" 

The  Colonel  replied  that  he  had  nut  slept  well  for  several 
nights. 

"  I  am  very  nervous  now.  Could  I  not  have  a  glass  of 
brandy  and  water  ?'' 

The  old  doctor  smiled,  and  so  did  his  two  assistants,  and 
they  passed  on  to  the  next  patient.  Soon  after  they  left  the 
ward  ;  and  the  nurse,  who  had  received  some  directions,  came 
to  the  bedside  of  the  Colonel. 

"  How  do  you  feel  now  ?"  he  asked  in  a  kinder'  tone  than 
usual. 

"  Very  bad  indeed.  I  am  really  sick.  I  would  like  to  get 
up  #nd  put  on  my  clothes,"  said  the  Colonel. 


VIGOR.  329 

"  Can't  he  allowed.  You  must  get  some  sleep  before  you 
are  allowed  to  sit  up,"  replied  the  nurse. 

"  Then  I  will  try  and  get  some  sleep,"   said  poor  Mac  Neil. 

He  did  try,  but  there  was  a  fire  in  his  veins  that  would  not 
let  him  sleep.  Tea  came  ;  he  tried  to  swallow  it,  but  his 
nerves  were  so  unstrung  that  he  could  not  hold  the  cup  to  his 
mouth,  and  he  fell  back  upon  the  bed.  Then  came  the  long 
hours  of  that  night.  Moments  only  passed,  and  yet  the  Colonel 
dreamed  of  horrid  matters  and  doings  that  would  have  taken 
hours  to  perform.  He  would  start  up  in  his  bed,  and  a  cold 
sweat  poured  from  his  brow.  The  building  seemed  to  totter  ; 
the  room  turned  round;  the  sickly  lamp  seemed  to  be  glowing 
meteors.  He  would  satisfy  his  mind  that  all  was  imagination, 
and  then  the  horrid  thought  would  cross  his  mind  that  he  was 
going  mad.  In  a  moment  more  he  would  doze,  and  then  he 
would  be  with  his  darling  children.  Oh  what  happiness  !  the 
loved  mother  was  there.  Then  snakes  would  come  among  them 
— hateful,  venomous  reptiles,  with  unheard  of  forms,  and  his 
children  would  be  snatched  away,  and  he  would  raise  himself 
in  bed.  "  Lie  down,"  the  nurse  would  sing  out.  All  his 
dreams  had  been  but  a  moment  transpiring. 

By  and  bye  the  nurse  would  come  again.  "  Take  this — the 
doctor  ordered  it."  The  Colonel  hesisated,  but  took  the  tea- 
spoon in  his  hand,  and  swallowed  the  contents.  "  Two  hours 
hence  you  are  to  take  another  one,"  said  the  nurse.  "  Now  lie 
down  and  try  to  sleep — it  is  all  that  you  can  do,  or  that  any 
body  can  do  for  you  ;  it  is  sleep  or  die."  The  Colonel  would 
lie  down  again.  In  a  moment  he  saw  the  doctor  slyly  enter, 
and  pass  to  the  nurse's  room  ;  he  heard  them  whisper  softly 
to  each  other.  One  said,  "  Yes,  I  have  given  him  the  dose. 
It  will  kill  him  ;  then  we  will  take  his  body  up  stairs,  and  no- 
body will  know  it;  he  will  make  a  good  subject."  The  other 
replied,  "  I  must  not  be  known  in  the  matter.  He  is  Colonel 
Mac  Neil.  His  friends  don't  care  about  him  while  he  is  alive, 
but  when  he  is  dead  they  may  ask  about  him." 

Mac  heard  all  this  dreadful  conspiracy.     He   sat  up  in  the 
bed,  but  there  was  no  one  in  the  room.       "  Aha  !  kill  me,  will 
they  ?"     He  jumped  out  of  bed  and   seized  a  wooden  bench. 
'  I  will  not  die  without  a  struggle." 

The  doctor  had  passed  through  the  room,  but  it  was  to  take 
a  bath  ;  the  nurse  was  in  his  own  room,  occupied  with  some 
business,  but  the  poor  victim,  (for  Mac  was  now  delirious,) 
thought  he  had  heard  all  this  talk,  and  he  was  ready. 

The  doctor  came  out  of  the  bath  room.     No  sooner  did  Mao 


330  VIGOR. 

see  him,  than  elevating  the  stool  he  exclaimed,*"  Poison  me, 
you  d — d  doctor,  will  you  ?''  and  made  a  blow  with  the  bench 
at  his  head.  Had  it  hit  him,  he  never  would  have  prescribed 
for  any  more  patients.  The  doctor  dodged  it,  but  fell.  In  a 
moment  the  Colonel  was  upon  him.  The  nurse,  hearing  the 
struggle,  came  in,  and  at  once  fastened  upon  the  Colonel,  and 
choked  him  until  he  released  the  doctor.  Then  more  help 
came,  and  at  last,  they  got  the  raving  man  upon  the  bed,  and 
then  passing  a  chain  over  him,  fastened  his  hands  and  legs  so 
that  he  could  not  move.  "  He  is  safe  now,  doctor,"  said  the 
nurse.  "  You  had  a  narrow  escape,  doctor  :  lucky  I  came  in. 
I  thought  we  should  have  trouble  with  him  ;  he  has  been  a 
hard  drinker." 

"  Yes,  Patrick,  don't  let  him  loose  again  until  I  see  you  ;  he 
is  very  dangerous.  I  don't  think  he  will  get  over  it,  though 
he  may  if  he  gets  sleep  to-night,"  and  with  these  remarks  the 
doctor  passed  out  and  got  a  good  night's  sleep,  leaving  orders 
to  keep  poor  Mac  chained  until  morning. 

The  struggles  of  the  Colonel  when  he  found  himself  made 
fast,  were  foarful.  Sometimes  it  seemed  as  though  he  would 
either  break  the  chain  and  fastenings,  or  wrench  off  his  wrists. 
His  torrents  of  curses  and  reproaches  were  horrible.  The  other 
patients  who  had  gone  through  the  ordeal  and  were  getting 
well,  could  not  sleep,  but  they  sat  up  in  their  beds  and  watched 
the  rum  maniac.  "  For  the  love  of  God,  take  those  snakes  off 
my  hand!"  "  Oh  Graham,  you  deserved  a  better  fate."  "  Poor 
Will  !  my  bright,  beautiful  boy."  "  There  !  there  !  what  a 
horrid  snake  !"  "  Water  !  give  me  water  !"  these  expressions 
and  a  thousand  others,  gave  a  key  to  the  thoughts  which  were 
passing  in  the  poor  maniac's  mind.  Sometimes  he  would  utter 
scream  after  scream  of  agonized  horror  ;  then  he  would  weep 
as  though  his  heart  would  break  :  and  so  he  continued  all  that 
night.  Towards  morning  he  seemed  to  be  getting  quiet. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  the  nurse  to  his  companion. 

"  I  thought,  Bill,  we  would  have  to  lock  him  up.  But  he  is 
pretty  quiet  now,  and  I  am  going  to  have  a  snooze." 

"  Day  broko,  and  soon  after  the  light  came  through  the  large 
window,  and  fell  upon  the  chained  man's  countenance.  The 
patient  in  the  next  bed  appeared  to  notice  something  unusual. 
lie  observed  to  another  patient,  "  I  believe  that  man  is  dying. 
It  is  enough  to  kill  any  one  to  be  treated  so — chained  down  all 
night.  What  a  perfect  gentleman  he  is,  too  !" 

The  other  patient  added,  "  He  don't  make  no  noise  now.  Is 
he  asleep  ?  Take  a  look." 


VIGOR.  331 

The  other  cftd  look,  and  placed  his  hand  upon  the  forehead 
of  Colonel  Mac  Neil.  "  My  God,  he  is  dead.  Let  us  call  tlie 
nurse." 

"  Don't  call  him — let  him  find  it  out.  He  knows  he  will 
get  the  gentleman's  clothes,  and  that  is  all  he  cares  about," 
said  the  other  patient. 

The  Colonel  lay  thus  cold  and  unconscious,  and  the  other 
patients  soon  went  to  sleep.  Later  the  nurse  Patrick  entered, 
and  went  to  the  bedside  of  Mac  Neil.  "  Dead,  eh  ?"  and  then 
he  opened  the  door  and  went  to  the  office  to  report.  Such 
things  are  very  common  in  that  old  building.  The  nurse  was 
gone  a  few  moments.  When  he  returned,  he  was  followed  by 
two  other  men.  They  all  then  assisted  to  place  the  body  upon 
a  sort  of  bier,  and  carried  it  out  of  the  ward  down  to  the  dead 
house,  and  then  placed  it  upon  the  table  to  await  further  orders. 
There  was  no  noise  and  no  fuss  at  such  a  melancholy  termina- 
tion to  a  man's  life  in  the  hospital,  as  there  would  have  been 
in  a  private  mansion.  No  message  was  sent  out  to  any  body, 
for  that  is  not  the  business  of  people  in  the  hospital.  People 
go  to  the  hospital  with  one  of  two  objects  to  accomplish — to 
get  well  or  to  die.  Colonel  Mac  Neil  was  dead,  and  if  his 
fripnds  discovered  it  well  and  good  ;  if  not,  his  body  would  be 
taken  from  the  dead  house  in  the  hospital  yard  to  the  Potter's 
Field.  About  ten  o'clock  that  same  day,  Marion  Monck, 
agreeably  to  the  promise  he  had  made  to  the  Colonel  the  day 
previous  went  from  46  Centre  street  to  see  him.  He  passed 
through  the  gate,  and  went  directly  to  the  ward  in  the  North 
building.  The  door  was  not  fast,  but  stood  partly  open.  The 
nurse  was  not  there.  Marion  gazed  around  the  room,  expect- 
ing to  see  the  Colonel — but  he  was  not  there.  He  turned 
towards  a  patient  who  occupied  a  bed  near  the  door  :  "  I  came 
here  with. a  friend  yesterday.  He  was  placed  upon  that  bed. 
Can  you  tell  me  where  he  has  gone  to  ?" 

The  man  looked  at  Marion  a  moment :  "  Yes,  I  remember 
you.  They  have  removed  your  friend — Colonel  you  called 
him — to  the  dead  house." 

"  Dead  house  !  Why,  what  should  he  be  removed  there 
for  ?"  asked  Marion,  horrified. 

"  What  for  ?     Why,  because  he  is  dead,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Dead.  Colonel  Mac  Neil  dead.  Impossible.  Why,  I  left 
him  here  yesterday.  Dead!"  Marion  exclaimed,  and  seemed 
to  be  paralyzed  at  the  information.  Another  patient  joined 
him,  who  seemed  to  be  a  little  more  human.  He  related  all 
that  had  occurred,  and  that  the  Colonel  had  died  soon  after 


332  VIGOR. 

daylight.  Marion  cried  like  a  child.  The  nurlfe  came  in,  and 
Marion  heard  what  he  had  to  say.  He  then  went  to  the  office 
and  obtained  permission  to  go  to  the  dead  house  and  see  the 
body.  The  dead  house  man  opened  the  door.  There  was  DO 
mistake  now.  There  lay  Colonel  Mac  Neil,  cold,  stiff  and 
insensible  to  all  affairs  of  earth.  Marion  was  too  shocked  to 
opod  his  mouth.  He  hurried  out  of  the  building — out  of  tho 
grounds,  and  never  halted  until  he  reached  No.  46  Centre 
street.  Mr.  Charles  was  reading  the  newspaper.  M:\rion 
hastily  told  the  story,  namely,  that  Colonel  Mac  Neil  was  dead. 
Mr.  Charles  said  he  expected  as  much.  Harry,  the  proprietor, 
at  once  took  an  interest  in  the  matter,  and  advised  Marion  to 
go  to  No.  27  Harrison  street  and  communicate  the  awful  intel- 
ligence to  Miss  Jane.  He  went  over  at  once.  He  found  that 
lady  just  sitting  down  to  dinner  with  her  children.  He  asked 
to  see  her  alone.  Half  reluctantly  she  came  out  into  the  hall. 
He  told  her  what  had  happened.  One  shriek  rang  out,  and 
he  fell  senseless  on  the  floor.  But  thare  was  no  time  for  delay. 
"  You  are  Marion  Monck,  I  am  certain.  Go  and  make  arrange- 
ments that  his  body  shall  be  brought  here.  Poor  William,  he 
shall  have  no  burial  from  a  public  hospital."  The  parties  in 
house  were  spoken  to,  and  they  advised  Miss  MePhcrson  to 
pursue  that  course.  The  children  of  the  Colonel  were  very 
much  affected.  When  the  mother  told  them  what  had  hap- 
pened, they  sobbed  as  if  their  little  hearts  would  break.  They 
did  love  that  poor  father  who  loved  them  so  truly. 

Marion  left  them  to  weep  at  their  great  loss,  and  went  to  an 
undertaker  and  gave  orders  to  him  to  take  a  shell  and  convey 
the  body  of  the  Colonel  to  Harrison  street,  and  then  to  take 
measures  for  a  handsome  coffin  and  a  respectable  private  burial. 
He  accompanied  the  undertaker  to  the  hospital.  Permission 
to  remove  the  body  was  at  once  obtained,  and  the  unconscious 
Colonel  was  vvith-those  who  loved  him  that  same  evening  of 
the  day  he  died.  The  notice  of  the  death  of  Colonel  M;ic 
Neil  appeared  in  the  papers  next  morning,  and  the  funeral  was 
announced  to  take  place  that  afternoon. 


VIGOR.  333 


CHAPTER    LY. 

The  House  of  John  Grasper,  in  Broadway —  The  Wedding  — Count  Falsf  chin- 
ski  is  Married  to  the  Rich  Irene  Grayer — A  Staitling  Contrast  —  The 
Brilliant  Marriage  of  vne  Lover,  and  the  Mtlancholy  Funeral  of  the  Other. 

IN  that  brown  granite  building  up  Broadway,  the  residence 
of  John  Grasper,  Esq.,  there  was  a  grand  gathering  of  all  the 
elite  of  New  York  city  one  night  late  in  the  month  of  Septem- 
ber. The  Count  Falsechinski  had  that  day  led  to  the  altar* 
Irene,  the  handsome  daughter  of  the  rich  old  banker.  She  was 
now  a  Countess.  The  bride  and  the  bridegroom  were  both 
present  at  this  party  given  by  the  parents  of  the  bride  to  cele- 
brate the  nuptials.  Music,  the  rarest  and  best  that  could  be 
procured,  added  liveliness  to  the  scene.  What  a  contrast  to 
the  scene  that  same  night  in  the  humble  dwelling-house  in 
Harrison  street !  Could  the  fair  bride,  whose  brow  was  un- 
dimmed  by  even  a  passing  sorrow  cloud,  have  realized  that  her 
admirer — her  lover,  and  the  one  she  loved  in  other  days — the 
gay  and  fashionable  Colonel  Mac  Neil,  had  died  that  morning 
in  a  public  ward  in  the  hospital,  manacled,  uncared  for,  and 
unknown,  and  that  at  that  moment,  when  her  father's  mansion 
•was  illuminated  with  light  and  with  beauty,  and  crowds  were 
offering  incense  at  her  shrine,  he,  the  poor 'lover,  was  lying 
dead  in  a  small  room,  and  by  his  lifeless  body  knelt  a  woman 
and  his  two  children  ?  What  would  hav£  been  the  bride's 
sensations  ?  We  will  not  stop  to  inquire.  Such  was  the  fact, 
however,  and  it  was  known  to  the  Count  that  Colonel  Mac  Neil 
•was  dead,  for  he  had  met  Marion  Monck,  who  informed  him  of 
it  as  an  excuse  why  he  should  be  absent  from  the  wedding 
party,  to  which  the  Count  had  given  him  a  cordial  invitation. 
To  the  credit  of  the  Count,  we  will  say  that  he  not  only  bade 
Marion  God  speed  in  his  work  of  kindness  in  assisting  the 
widow  and  the  fatherless,  but  he  insisted  that  he  should  receive 
from  him,  the  Count,  a  sufficient  sum  of  money  to  liquidate  all 
expenses  connected  with  the  funeral  of  Colonel  Mac  Neil. 

Old  Mr.  Prime,  the  banker  and  the  friend  of  the  Count,  was 
at  the  wedding  party,  and  as  merry  as  every   old   gentleman 


334  VIGOR. 

ought  to  be.  He  considered  this  wedding  as  partly  got  up  by 
his  individual  action.  He  had  satisfied  Mr.  Grasper,  and  Mr. 
Grasper  had  paid  into  the  banking  house  of  Prim3,  Ward  & 
King  the  dower  agreed  upon,  namely,  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  The  settlements  had  been  made  to  the  en- 
tire satisfaction  of  all  parties. 

Among  the  guests  was  the  Russian  Ambassador,  who  had 
undertaken  to  arrange  the  Count's  affairs  at  the  Court  of  St. 
Petersburg.  He  had  succeeded,  and  his  presence  was  a  full 
indorsement  of  the  Count's  claim  to  his  title,  had  any  one 
chosen  to  dispute  or  to  doubt  the  matter.  Mr  and  Mrs.  Wil- 
son were  invited,  and  were  present.  So  were  Colonel  Benson, 
his  son  and  Isabella  Benson,  his  son's  wife,  and  her  father, 
Pitt  Granville.  The  latter  was  an  unhappy,  miserable  man. 
He  had  made  a  grand  mistake  in  the  Count.  He  had  always 
supposed  he  was  a  nobody — an  adventurer.  He  had  had  him 
as  a  clerk,  and  had  treated  him  as  a  clerk,  and  now  to  find  that 
this  ci  devant  clerk  was  a  real  count — a  nobleman,  with  a 
princely  income  and  a  large  cash  capital,  and  about  to  carry  off 
a  bride  with  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  more,  was  too 
bad.  He  might  have  had  the  Count  for  his  own  daughter,  if 
he  had  awoke  a  little  sooner,  and  then,  as  he  contrasted  the 
elegant,  well-dressed,  accomplished  Count,  passing  from  one  to 
another  of  the  guests,  an  object  of  universal  admiration,  and 
winning  smiles  from  the  most  beautiful  by  his  wit  and  bril- 
liant conversation,  and  then  turned  his  eyes  to  his  own  son-in- 
law,  who  sat  in  one  corner,  looking  sheepish  and  stupid,  no  one 
appearing  to  be  aware  that  such  a  person  was  in  existence,  he 
felt  mortified  and  vexed  at  his  own  past  folly  and  stupidity. 

All  the  friends  and  connexions  of  the  Graspers  were  present 
in  full  force.  The  bride  radiated  among  them,  dressed  in 
spotless  white  and  sparkling  with  jewels.  She  was  proud  of 
her  husband,  and  well  she  might  be,  for  the  Count  could  shine 
any  where,  and  he  appeared  devoted  to  his  wife. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  the  bridal  pair  should  start  the 
next  morning  on  an  excursion,  which  was  expected  to  occupy 
some  weeks. 

The  Count  approached  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson,  who  were 
quietly  enjoying  the  gay  scene.  He  shook  hands  with  them 
cordially,  and  they  congratulated  him  upon  his  brilliant  mar- 
riage. The  Count  replied  with  deep  fervor  to  Mrs.  Wilson, 
"  Ah,  dear  madam  ;  I  can  never  forget  you.  That  first  niyht, 
when  I  was  so  poor,  and  when  Marion,  God  bless  him,  carried 
me  to  his  room.  Oh,  you  have  brought  me  good  luck.  It 


VIGOR.  335 

started  me  anew,  and  you,  Mr.  Wilson,  how  kind  you  ever  were 
to  me,  I  shall  never  forget." 

Mrs.  Wilson  replied,  "  Poor  Marion.  I  am  told  that  he  is 
not  doing  very  well,  Don't  forget  him,  Count,  for  if  you  do 
owe  any  one  for  your  success,  it  was  Marion." 

"  May  my  head  perish  when  I  forget  it.-  No,  Mrs.  Wilson, 
I  have  a  place  on  my  hands  for  the  good  of  Marion.  He  shall 
be  in  business  before  I  leave  this  land  for  my  own  country, 
and  with  plenty  of  means.  You  have  heard  of  that  dreadful 
event  this  morning,  Wilson  ?"  he  inquired,  in  a  low  voice. 
Both  husband  and  wife  started,  and  asked  to  what  he  alluded. 

"  Don't  mention  it  here  to-night,  but  Colonel  Mac  Neil  died 
of  delirium  tremens  in  one  of  the  wards  of  the  hospital  this 
morning  about  daybreak.  Marion  Monck  has  removed  the 
dead  body  to  residence  of  Miss  McPherson  and  Mac's  children. 
Is  it  not  shocking  ?  I  must  leave  you  now.  Do  not  forget 
me," — and  with  these  words  the  Count  passed  on  to  greet  other 
guests. 

Wilson  gazed  into  the  face  of  his  wife.  Neither  could  speak 
for  some  moments.  Both  knew  the  history  of  Colonel  Mac 
Neil.  Both  knew  that  he  was  once  a  favored  lover  of  her  who 
was  now  the  Countess  Falsechinski.  At  last  Mr.  Wilson 
spoke. 

"  Darling,  I  am  sick  of  stopping  here.  Can't  we  contrive  to 
go  ?  Poor  Mac  Neil ;  what  a  sad  fate.  I  shall  go  to  his  fu- 
neral, wife.  I  wish  I  could  have  done  more.  What  a  blow  it 
would  be  to  the  gay  bride,  if  the  truth  could  reach  her  to-night, 
eh?" 

"  I  hope  it  may  not,  Richard.  She  could  not  have  helped 
the  matter — and  only  think  of  that  poor  woman  and  her  two 
children.  Well — well — as  people  sow,  so  must  they  reap. 
What  a  contrast  between  the  melancholy  death  of  one  lover 
and  the  gay  bridal  of  another,  and  yet  the  one  who  has  died  a 
horrid  'death,  I  first  met  the  courted  and  caressed  by  all  the 
wealth  and  fashion  of  the  city.  The  other,  who  is  now  sur- 
rouded  by  wealth,  admiring  friends,  a  title,  a  rich  bride,  came 
to  my  house  in  the  dead  of  winter,  and  without  food  or  scarcely 
any  clothes.  But  for  the  kindness  of  Marion  Monck  might 
have  perished  in  the  streets  that  night.  Does  it  not  make  you 
shudder  to  think  of  such  changes  in  life,  husband  ?"  asked  the 
wife. 

"  Thank  God,  and  you,  my  darling  Bessy,  I  am  too  comfort- 
able to  dread  them.  We  must  stay  until  supper  is  over.  I 
will  go  and  tell  Mr.  Granville  about  Mac  Neil's  death." 


336  VIGOR. 

He  left  his  wife  to  do  as  He  stated.  He  was  absent  but  a 
moment,  and  when  he  returned  he  observed,  "  I  have  done  a 
very  foolish  thing.  I  never  saw  a  man  so  horrified  as  Gran- 
ville  appears  to  be.  I  am  sorry  I  told  him  any  thing  about  the 
matter." 

Mrs.  Isabella  Benson  was  at  this  wedding  party,  and  her 
beauty  attracted  a  great  deal  of  admiration.  Many  solicited 
an  introduction  to  her,  but  her  conversational  powers  were  nof 
sufficient  to  retain  by  her  side  those  that  her  pretty  features 
attracted  thither. 

The  supper  was  a  superb  affair,  and  no  pains  or  expense 
were  spared  to  make  it  excel  all  suppers  that  ever  came  off  be- 
fore in  a  private  bouse.  Old  Mr.  Prime  declared  that  he  had 
never  been  at  such  a  supper,  and  his  indorsement  was  always  a 
good  one  for  a  note  or  a  supper. 

It  \\as  at  a  very  late  hour  when  the  party  broke  up.  All  the 
guests  were  pleased,  and  went  to  their  homes  envying  both 
bride  and  bridegroom.  Such  is  life. 

The  next  morning  all  the  gay  guests  at  that  wedding  read 
the  notice  of  Colonel  Mac  Neil's  death,  and  that  his  funeral 
would  take  place  that  afternoon  from  27  Harrison  street. 

When  the  appointed  hour  arrived,  there  was  a  large  crowd 
gathered.  It  hardly  seemed  possible  that  the  Colonel  had  so 
many  friends,  or  even  acquaintances.  Mr.  Granville  was  there. 
So  was  Colonel  Benson  and  Mr.  Wilson  and  many  others.  Tlio 
body  was  to  be  conveyed  to  Greenwood  Cemetery.  The  widow 
and  the  children  were  in  a  carriage  by  themselves,  where  they 
followed  the  corpse  until  it  was  placed  beneath  the  sod.  Then 
Marion  Monck  got  into  the  carriage,  and  returned  with  the 
three  weepers.  As  the  little  party  crossed  the  ferry,  Miss 
McPherson  spoke.  "  Mr.  Monck,  you  have  been  a  true  friend 
to  us  in  our  need,  and  God  will  bless  you  for  it.  Out  of  all 
the  Colonel's  friends,  you  alone  seem  to  have  been  a  true  one. 
I  want  you  to  do  one  thing  more.  Get  all  his  things  from  tho 
place  that  he  frequented,  and  bring  them  to  me.  I  will  give 
you  his  own  authority  for  their  removal."  She  then  told  Ma- 
rion about  the  last  day  he  had  spent  with  his  little  family. 
"  He  had  a  presentiment  that  he  was  to  die,  and  it  came  true." 

The  day  following  that  of  the  funeral,  Marion  caused  the 
bureau  and  other  effects  of  the  late  Colonel  to  be  removed  to 
the  residence  of  his  widow,  as  he  called  her,  and  by  which  title 
she  was  ever  after  recognized  by  those  who  valued  Mac  Neil's 
memory. 

Soon  after  the  Colonel's  death,  the  widow  wrote  to  her  father 


TIGOR.  837 

in  Canada.  He  came  to  New  York.  Mrs.  Mac  Neil  appointed 
a  trusting  agent  to  manage  her  property  in  the  city,  and  as 
soon  as  those  matters  were  arranged,  she  and  her  two  children 
returned  to  Canada  with  their  relative. 


CHAPTER   LYI. 

Waller  GranvtlU  and  Clara  Norris  —  I'Tieir  Marriage — The  Hotel  de  Paris, 
and  Totn  Grdnville — (Ju'ious  Speech  of  Clara,  Norris  to  Henry  &>}inson  — 
The  latter' s  Marriage  with  JKo.ie  Barker  at  Mrs.  Woodruff's  residrnre — • 
Mar  on  Alonctc  —  His  Poem,  "The,  Outcast"- — -Tom  Grunvdlts  deyradi- 
tion,  and  Rfl-ctions  at  Clara's  Wedding  with  his  Nephew. 

SOME  weeks  had  passed  after  the  arrival  in  the  city  of  young 
Walter  Granville  before  he  made  himself  known  to  his  uncle 
Tom.  The  time  had  been  devoted  to  Miss  Norri.s,  who  had 
continued  to  reside  at  Mrs.  Woodruff's,  and  where  she  had  a 
full  opportunity  to  exert  her  extraordinary  powers  of  fascina- 
tion upon  the  young  sailor.  Never  hud  she  appeared  so  young 
and  so  lovely.  She  accompanied  him  to  every  place  of  public  - 
amusement,  rode  out  with  him,  walked  with  him,  delicately 
furnished  him  with  a  stream  of  money,  and  bestowed  upon  him 
presents  of  value  and  of  utility.  She  had  a  purpose  in  all  this. 
She  made  up  her  mind  to  succeed,  and  success  seemed  almost 
within  her  grasp.  She  determined  to  injure  the  elder  Gran- 
ville, and  she  saw  no  surer  method  than  by  plunging  his  only 
son  into  a  vortex  from  which  there  was  no  escape. 

She  had  proposed  to  Walter  that  he  should  marry  her.  She 
explained  to  him  that  she  was  comparatively  independent — 
satisfied  him  that  he  had  gained  her  affections,  and  that  her 
whole  soul  was  his.  He  certainly  was  leading  a  pleasant  life. 
He  had  no  idea  but  that  his  father  had  closed  his  heart  and  his 
doors  upon  him  forever.  Clara  had  behaved  nobly  to  him,  as 
he  thought,  for  she  had  not  only  made  him  comfortable,  but  she 
had  advanced  Henry  Rob.inson  a  considerable  sum,  to  enable 
him  to  support  the  expense  of  Rose  and  himself  at  a  second- 
rate  hotel.  Yet  Walter  hesitated.  He  had  not  made  up  his 
mind  fully  in  the  matter  until  the  morning  of  his  interview 
with  his  uncle  Tom.  The  night  previous  he  and  Clara  bad 
conversed  together  upon  the  subject  of  marriage.  He  had 
asked  means  to  give  a  helping  hand  to  his  relative,  and  she 
had  agreed  to  it  at  once.  At  the  same  time  she  told  Walter 
that  they  were  both  doing  very  wrong  in  living  together  in  the 


338  VIGOR. 

manner  they  were  doing  without  being  married,  and  that  much 
as  she  loved  him,  it  should  not  continue  another  day. 

"  It  will  break  iny  heart,  Walter,  to  part  with  you,  but  it 
must  be  done.  You  have  one  advantage  over  me,  Walter. 
When  we  are  married,  if  you  do  not  continue  to  love  me,  or 
get  tired,  you  can  run  away  and  go  to  sea  again." 

The  hint  was  not  lost  upon  Walter,  and  that  morning,  when 
he  went  out  to  find  Thomas  Granville,  he  said,  "  Clara,  I  will 
marry  you  as  soon  as  you  please,  but  let  it  all  be  done  quietly." 

"  Then  suppose  it  be  this  evening,  in  presence  of  only  one 
or  two  witnesses.  You  promise  to  bring  up  your  uncle,  and  I 
will  go  out  and  invite  your  friend  Robinson,"  said  Clara. 

"  The  clergyman — who  will  you  get  to  perform  that  cere- 
mony ?"  asked  Walter. 

"Leave  all  that  to  me,  dear  Walter,  and  don't  worry  your- 
self about  the  matter.  It  shall  all  be  regular,  and  with  no 
noise,"  replied  Clara. 

With  this  understanding  the  parties  separated.  Walter 
went  in  search  of  his  uncle  Tom,  and  Clara  Norris  to  make 
her  arrangements. 

Walter  found  his  relative  in  the  destitute  state  we  have  de- 
scribed. He  left  him  well  provided  for,  and  it  did  Walter's 
heart  good,  for  with  all  his  faults  he  loved  his  uncle  Tom,  and 
sympathized  with  his  misfortune.  After  leaving  Mr.  Thomas 
Granville  in  the  manner  we  have  described,  he  returned  to 
Bond  street.  There  he  found  his  friend  Henry  Robinson  and 
the  lovely  little  Rose.  He  was  still  more  gratified  when  he 
found  that  the  two  friends  were  invited  to  stay  and  dine. 

"  So,  Walter,  you  are  going  to  marry  Miss  Norris,"  ex- 
claimed Henry  Robinson. 

"  Yes — that  is  my  intention.  Have  you  any  thing  to  say 
against  it  ?"  replied  Walter. 

"  Not  a  word,  my  dear  boy.  I  am  not  so  certain  but  that  I 
shall  follow  your  example  one  of  these  days.  I  shall  if  I  ever 
see  my  way  clear  to  support  my  little  Rose  •  but  hang  it,  man, 
I  am  afraid  that  had  it  not  been  for  your  intended,  Rose  and 
me  would  have  had  to  part  company  before  this.  Money  was 
getting  very  scarce  when  Miss  Clara  came  to  our  relief,"  re- 
marked Robinson. 

The  opinion  of  his  friend  and  companion  for  years,  had  its 
weight  with  Walter  Granville,  and  confirmed  him  in  his  inten- 
tions. Rose  timidly  asked  if  his  father,  meaning  the  elder 
Granville,  was  pleased  with  the  proposed  match.  Walter  gave 


VIGOR.  330 

her  a  stern  look,  and  then  perceiving  that  she  did  not   notice 
it,  added, 

"  My  pretty  Rose,  my  father  troubles  his  head  very  little 
about  my  affairs,  and  I  presume  does  not  care  whom  I  marry, 
lie  must  have  heard  that  I  am  in  the  city,  but  not  a  word  of 
kindness  or  a  message  of  any  kind  have  I  received  from  him 
or  any  other  of  my  family.  They  may  go  to  the  old  Harry  for 
nil  that  I  care.  But  come,  dinner  is  ready,  and  we  ought  to 
Le  thankful  that  we  can  get  a  good  dinner.  We  have  not  al- 
ways been  so  lucky,  have  we,  Harry  ?" 

The  dinner  was  a  choice  affair,  and  the  hostess,  Mrs.  Wood- 
ruff, graced  the  head  of  the  table  and  did  the  honors. 

"  My  beautiful  landlady,"  exclaimed  Walter,  "  you  are  the 
prettiest  of  the  three  ladies  now  at  this  table.  You  actually 
look  younger  than  any  of  them,  and  if  my  hand  was  not  already 
disposed  of,  I  would  certainly  offer  a  share  of  my  hard  for- 
tunes to  you." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  I  am  exceedingly  flattered,  but  Miss 
Norris  has  taken  the  matter  in  band,  and  I  am  too  late.  I 
must  say,  however,  that  if  I  envied  any  lady  it  would  be  Clara. 
1  think  you  are  one  of  a  thousand,  and  she  is  an  extremely  for- 
tunate young  lady." 

"  Thank  you,  madam,  for  both  of  us,"  replied  Clara. 

Dinner  was  over,  and  evening  approached,  when  Miss  Nor- 
ris went  to  her  room  to  commence  dressing  for  the  important 
ceremony,  which  it  was  arranged  should  come  off  in  the  front 
parlor  Rose  accompanied  Clara,  and  Harry  joined  Walter, 
who  left  Bond  street  to  walk  as  far  as  the  Hotel  de  Paris, 
where  he  had  agreed  to  meet  Thomas  Grranville.  They  found 
Tom  deeply  engrossed  in  a  game  of  dominoes  with  old  James 
Genimel,  the  Broadway  watchmaker,  who  owned  the  building 
occupied  as  the  Hotel  de  Paris. 

"  Excuse  me  one  moment,"  exclaimed  Tom,  when  he  saw 
Walter,  "  I  have  only  got  twelve  to  go  to  beat  this  gentleman, 
and  then  I  am  at  your  service." 

Walter  took  a  seat  at  one  of  the  small  marble-top  tables,  and 
motioning  Henry  to  a  seat  opposite,  he  ordered  two  cups  of 
coffee.  The  garcon  brought  the  cups,  and  Walter  lit  a  cigar. 

"  Harry,  did  you  notice  that  gentleman  that  I  spoke  to  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  I  did.     Pray  who  is  he  ?"  asked  Henry. 

"  He  is  mine  uncle  Tom,  that  you  have  so  often  heard  me 
chat  about,  during  our  watches  at  sea  in  the  good  old  whale 
ship,"  replied  Walter. 


340  VIGOR. 

"The  deuce  be  is  !  Well,  I  like  his  looks  very  much. 
Will  he  be  at  your  wedding  ?"  asked  Robinson. 

"  Yes.  But  I  don't  exactly  kno\v  how  ha  will  take  it.  He 
must  know  Clara.  But  I  will  find  out  presently,"  said  Walter. 

At  this  moment  they  were  joined  by  Thomas  Granvillo.  He 
rubbed  his  hands,  and  exclaimed  with  delight,  "  Aha!  I  am 
conqueror.  I  have  beat  old  Mr.  Gemmel,  and  he  is  considered 
the  crack  player  in  this  house." 

"  Sit  down,  sir.  One  would  think  you  had  won  a  second 
battle  of  Waterloo,  or  some  other  equally  important  affair. 
Allow  me  to  introduce  to  you  my  friend  Henry  Robinson,1' 
said  Walter. 

"  I  am  most  happy  to  meet  Mr.  Robinson,  or  any  other 
friend  of  yours,  my  excellent  Smith.  Gents,  will  you  join  me 
iu  a  drink  ?"  inquired  Tom. 

It  was  quite  evident  to  Walter  that  his  worthy  uncle  had 
already  drank  quite  sufficient,  and  he  suggested  in  place  of  a 
drink,  that  he  should  join  them  in  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"  Very  .well — I  think  I  will  do  as  you  suggest.  I  have  been 
drinking  considerable  wine  to-day,"  said  Tom. 

"  I  should  judge  so.  The  coffee  will  sober  you,  and  I  want 
you  to  be  perfectly  cool  to-night,  for  I  am  to  be  married  this 
evening,  and  you  are  to  be  at  the  wedding,''  said  Walter. 

"  The  devil  I  am  !  And- is  that  what  all  these  new  clothes 
are  for — hem — I  beg  your  pardon,  sir."  And  Tom  addressed 
Robinson.  He  had  forgot  himself. 

"  Never  mind,  Mr.  Granville.  You  will  be  welcome  to  my 
wedding  in  any  dress.  And  now  I  perceive  that  you  have 
been  getting  a  new  rig — out  of  compliment  to  me,  I  presume. 
Really,  I  am  under  obligations  to  you.  Come,  suppose,  we 
pay  our  shot,  and  then  leave — what  say  you,  gentlemen  ?"  asked 
Walter. 

All  agreed,  and  soon  after  the  trio  left  the  Flotel  de  Paris, 
and  proceeded  up  Broadway  to  Bond  street.  When  the  party 
reached  the  house  of  Mrs.  Woodruff,  Tom  remarked  that  his 
brother's  old  partner,  Mr.  Nordheim,  used  to  reside  next  door. 

"  t  am  well  aware  of  that,"  quietly  observed  Walter. 
"  Come  in,  gentlemen,"  he  continued  ;  and  then  led  the  way 
into  the  front  parlor.  No  one  was  there.  "Excuse  me,  Mr. 
Granville.  Come,  Harry,"  said  Walter  Granville,  and  with 
his  companion  he  passed  up  to  the  room  occupied  by  Clara. 

"  May  I  come  in  with  my  friend  Harry  ?"  demanded  Walter. 

"  Yes,  come  in,  we  are  almost  dressed — but  we  don't  mind 
you.  Look  at  Rose,  Harry.  How  do  you  like  her  ?" 


VIGOR.  341 

Harry  did  look.  The  beautiful  girl-was  dressed  in  a  robe 
of  white  satin,  and  her  dark  hair,  parted  upon  her  forehead, 
and  divided  to  the  back  of  her  head,  fell  in  two  distinct  masses 
down  her  back,  and  the  end  of  each  was  tied  with  a  white  rib- 
bon. Her  lover  flung  his  arms  about  her,  and  said, 

"  Thank  you,  dear  Miss  Norris.  Rose  was  always  lovely, 
but  I  have  never  seen  her  look  so  superb  as  she  does  to-day. 
What  do  we  not  owe  you  ?" 

"  Harry  Robinson,  let  me  tell  you  one  thing,  and  God  knows 
it  is  true.  The  talk  of  men,  when  it  concerns  women,  is  as 
light  and  evanescent  as  a  summer  cloud.  Under  certain  in- 
fluences men  agree  to  do  any  and  every  thing  for  a  woman — a 
young  and  pretty  woman.  They  will  marry — do  this,  or  do 
that,  or  the  other.  In  an  hour — a  week — a  month,  all  this  is 
changed.  They  will  see  the  Magdalen  they  have  made  de- 
spised, trampled  upon,  stoned  even — and  that  same  deceiving 
man  will  cast  the  additional  stone  that  crushes  the  poor  out- 
cast. She  who  has  believed  these  promises  dies  a  slow  death 
from  poisonous  disease  in  the  almshouse,  and  finds  an  unknown 
grave  in  the  Potter's  Field.  Young  man,  you  have  a  proud, 
rich  father.  He  would  see  you  wed  with  wealth  and  respecta- 
bility, with  a  girl  who  has  read  all  sorts  of  vile  trash — who 
has  never  known  sorrow,  who  has  drank  wine  daily  at  her 
father's  table,  and  nursedlier  luscious  imagination  with  a  thou- 
sand corrupting  thoughts  until  her  soul  was  polluted.  But  she 
is  virtuous  !  Nay,  the  very  girl  your  father  would  wish  you 
to  marry,  from  the  rich,  the  fashionable,  and  the  pious  circles 
of  high  society,  ninety-nine  chances  in  one  hundred,  is  a  pros- 
titute at  heart,  and  when  once  your  wife,  as  the  fountain  is 
already  poisoned,  so  the  rivulet  will  be,  and  she  will  become  a 
prostitute  in  body  the  first  chance  she  gets.  Now  look  at  that 
vision  of  loveliness,  gazing  with  her  big  black  eyes  at  me  while 
I  speak.  She  was  made  a  prostitute  in  body  while  her  mind 
was  as  pure  from  stain  as  the  white  satin  that  now  adorns  her 
person.  Her  body  was  polluted,  but  her  soul  never  entered 
into  the  act.  She  loved  you  with  her  mind  the  first  time  she 
saw  you.  She  loved  you  with  her  soul.  You  are  her  god. 
V»'ith  you  she  leaves  the  den  of  infamy  as  gladly  as  the  wild 
bird  leaves  the  wiry  cage  where  it  was  confined  Take  her 
now  to  the  altar,  and  let  her  become  your  wife,  and  she,  that 
little  one,  so  beautiful,  would  cling  to  you  till  death,  true  as 
steel,  and  as  impervious  to  vice  or  vicious  influences  as  the 
flint  stone.  She  would  never  be  unfaithful — •never  untrue. 
She  would  guard  your  honor  as  her  life,  as  the  very  jewel  of 


342  VIGOR. 

her  existence  ;  for  her  virtue  lies  in  that  particle  of  Deity — 
her  soul.  That  has  never  been  polluted  or  soiled.  The  world 
judges  differently,  but  I  speak  what  I  know.  Marry  Rose, 
dear  Harry,  and  if  you  live  on  bread  and  water,  sweep  streets 
for  a  living,  while  she  acts  as  washerwoman  for  your  mutual 
livelihood,  as  long  as  you  are  true  to  each  other,  you  will  know 
a  happiness  that  wealth  cannot  give." 

While  Clara  Norris  was  giving  vent  to  these  expressions, 
Walter  Granville  was  looking  at  her  in  amazement.  While  she 
was  speaking  a  pin  falling  would  have  been  heard. 

He  then  added,  "  Oara,  have  you  spoken  for  yourself?" 

"  God  knows  I  have  spoken  for  Rose,  for  she  has  a  pure, 
loving,  innocent  heart,  that  a  few  weeks'  residence  in  a  brothel 
has  not  soiled  or  tarnished.  As  for  me,  I  have  been  a  world- 
ling deeply — perhaps  damnably.  The  Great  Judge  only 
knows.  I  do  not  know  my  own  heart,  Walter.  Did  you  bring 
up  Thomas  Granville  with  you  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  did.     Left  him  down  stairs.  Clara,"  said  Walter. 

"  Go  down  at  once  and  apologize.  Tell  him  you  will  be  back 
presently,"  said  Clara. 

Walter  descended  to  the  parlor,  but  returned  almost  in- 
stantly, and  addressing  Clara,  said,  "  Uncle  Torn  is  fast  asleep 
upon  one  of  Mrs.  Woodruff's  exquiske  sofas." 

"  Well,  let  him  sleep  there  until  we  are  ready  to  descend — 
and  now  what  was  I  saying  1  Oh,  about  the  vice  of  the  body 
and  the  vice  of  the  mind,  so  far  as  us  poor  women  are  con- 
cerned. Never  mind.  I  don't  think,  Walter,  that  my  heart 
is  corrupted,  and  I  am  sure  that  of  Rose  is  not.  To-night  I 
become  your  wife,  and  wild  and  wayward  as  has  been  my  ca- 
reer, dear  Walter,  I  will  be  true  to  you  while  I  live.  So  help 
me,  Heaven.  Henry,  you  do  not  need  to  be  told  what  Rose 
will  do.  You  can  read  all  that  is  passing  in  her  heart  in  her 
sweet,  heavenly  face.  Walter,  will  you  forgive  me  for  one  act 
I  have  done  to-day  ?"  asked  Miss  Norris. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is,  Clara.  If  it  is  not  the  unpardonable 
sin,  I  think  I  can  forgive  you,"  replied  Walter. 

"  I  have  invited  Marion  Monck,  once  a  favorite  clerk  of  your 
father's — once  a  favored  suitor  of  your  sister  Isabella,  to  be 
present  to-night,"  said  Miss  Norris. 

'  "  You  are  a  strange  creature,  Clara.  Why  invite  him  ? 
What  have  I,  or  you,  for  that  matter  in  common,  with  him  ? 
What  is  he  to  us  now  ?"  haughtily  demanded  Walter. 

"  More  than  ever  he  was  in  what  the  world  calls  his  pros- 
perous days.  He  was  once  kind  to  me,  but  he  is  now  writing 


VIGOR.  343 

for  a  living — depending  upon  his  brains  for  his  bread  and  wa- 
ter. Mr.  Bennett,  of  the  Herald,  has  taken  him  up,  and — 
don't  laugh — he  writes  poetry.  He  has  not  spoken  to  me  for 
some  time,  but  last  St.  Valentine's  Day  I  received  from  him 
this  precious  valentine."  Here  Clara  went  to  a  small  desk  and 
took  an  envelope  from  it,  and  the  enclosure  she  handed  to  Wal- 
ter. ''  Read  that." 

AValter  drew  near  the  lamp.  He  looked  at  the  hand-writing 
a  moment.  "  How  well  I  remember  that  writing,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  It  is  indeed  written  by  Marion,  but  no  signature  is 
attached.  How  did  you  recognize  it,  Olara  ?" 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  I  have  seen  his  hand-writing  a  hundred 
times  in  the  days  of  Mr.  Nordheim.  I  knew  it  at  once,  but 
read  it."  Walter  read  the  poetry.  It  was  as  follows  : — 

THE    OUTCAST. 

I  look  upon  that  face,  bnt  while 

It  seems  so  passing  fair, 
.1  ask  me  it'  that  sunny  smile 

Is  wont  to  linger  there  ; 
I  ask  me  if  that  bosom's  heave 

Hides  not  a  heart  that's  doomed  to  grieve 
And  wither  in  despair; 
I  ask  if  joy  or  peace  can  be 
With  oue'so  desolate  as  thee. 

I  knew  thee  not,  thou  fallen  flower, 

When  virtue  marked  thy  growth. 
I  knew  thee  not  in  'thy  bright  hour 

Of  purity  and  truth. 
I  knew  thee  not  till  treacherous  waya 

Had  dimmed  the  sunshine  of  thy  daya, 
The  freshness  of  thy  youth  ; 
And  then  I  knew  thee  in  thy  shame 
Without  a  friend — without  a  name. 

An  outcast  from  thy  father's  home, 

A  blighted,  joyless  thing  ; 
Thy  journey  onward  to  the  tomb, 

A  rayless  wandering. 
Uncheered  by  hope  thy  bosom  heavea 

Yet  like  the  rose's  scattered  leaves, 
Some  sweets  yet  round  thee  cling ; 
And  dimfy  round  thy  ruin  shine 
Like  ivy  on  th£ shattered  pine. 

There's  beauty  still  upon  thy  brow, 

And  kindness'  in  thy  heart, 
A  smile  is  with  thee  eVen  now, 

All  hopeless  as  thou  art. 
But  sorrow's  wave  too  soon  will  chase 

The  light  of  beauty  from  thy  face, 


344  VIGOR. 

And  thou  wilt  then  depart; 
As  bends  the  lily  to  the  blast 
Unknown,  unloved,  thou'll  sink  at  last 

God  cheer  thee  on  that  awful  day. 

For  none  will  watch  thy  bed, 
None'sigh  to  see  thee  pass  away, 

Or  grieve  for  thee  when  dead  ; 
None  seek  the  silent,  lonely  spot, 

Where,  cold,  forsaken  and  forgot, 
Reclines  thy  lovely  head : 
The  turf,  alas,  will  soon  be  green. 
And  few  will  know  that  thou  hast  been. 

"  Yes,  dear  Walter,  I  want  that  young  man  who  could  ad- 
dress me  such  lines,  to  see  me  married — yes,  married.  I 
should  die  were  he  not  here  to-night,  for  that  poetry  has 
weighed  like  lead  upon  my  heart.  But  as  your  wife,  the  spell 
•will  he  removed,"  exclaimed  the  excited  Miss  Norris. 

"  I  am  very  glad,  then,  Clara,  that  you  have  invited 
him.  But  come,  you  are  all  dressed.  Holloa,  what  is  the 
matter  with  you,  my  beautiful  Rose  ?" 

Eose  was  weeping  as  though  her  heart  would  hreak.  The 
few  lines,  as  read  by  Walter  in  his  deep-toned  voice,  touched 
a  chord  that  had  vibrated  through  her  hosom.  She  made  no 
reply  to  Walter,  but  fell  upon  her  knees  before  Henry  Robin- 
son. 

"  Oh,  dear  Henry,  save  me  from  such  a  fate  as  that  of  the 
poor  outcast,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  It  shall  be,  Rose — it  shall  be.  My  mind  is  made  up.  Dear 
Miss  Norris,  may  I  ask  one  favor  ?  After  the  clergyman  has 
made  you  and  Walter  one,  let  him  do  the  same  for  us  two — make 
Rose  my  wife.  Come  what  will,  I  will  be  her  legal  protector  ; 
her  husband." 

"  God  bless  you,  Harry,"  was  all  the  reply  that  Rose  could 
make. 

"  I  will  see  to  it,"  said  the  majestic  Clara. 

A  slight  tap  at  the  door  interrupted  the  conversation. 

"  Who  is  there  ?"  asked  Walter. 

"  Me — Mrs.  Woodruff.  There  are  some  guests  in  the  parlor. 
Are  you  not  most  ready  ?"  she  asked1. 

The  reply  was  in  the  affirmative,  and  in  a  moment  the  door 
was  opened  and  the  party  followed  Mrs.  Woodruff  down  stairs. 
As  they  entered  the  parlor  a  singular  sight  was  presented — 
Thomas  Granville  lay  asleep,  and  was  snoring  upon  the  sofa. 
There  was  a  clergyman  in  his  robes,  evidently  of  the  Episco- 


VIGOR.  345 

pal  order,  for  he  wore  a  white  surplice,  and  held  in  his  hand 
the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  of  the  Church  of  England. 

In  one  corner  of  the  room  was  Marion  Monck.  It  was  the 
lady-like  duty  of  Miss  Norris  to  place  these  people  at  their 
ease.  She  walked  to  Marion. 

"  Old  friend,  have  you  forgotten  one  known  to  you  many 
years  ago  ?  This  is  Walter  Granvillc. 

Simple  as  the  words  were,  they  electrified  Marion.  Walter 
was  his  old  employer's  son — the  brother  of  her  he  remembered 
with  such  tender  recollections. 

"  Walter,  why  when  did  you  come  ?  I  am  glad  to  see  you," 
was  all  Marion  could  say,  and  it  was  enough. 

Walter  raid  some  kind  words,  and  sat  down  by  him.  Clara 
proceeded  to  the  clergyman. 

"  Venerable  sir,  in  a  moment  we  will  be  ready  for  you  to 
proceed.  When  you  have  married  me  to  Mr.  Granville,  will 
you  marry  these  two  to  each  other  ?"  and  she  pointed  to  Hen- 
ry and  Rose. 

The  clergyman  bowed,  and  replied,  "  Most  certainly,  if  there 
are  no  objections." 

"  None  in  the  wide  world,"  said  Clara,  and  she  passed  to 
the  sofa  where  Thomas  Granville  was  lying.  She  placed  her 
hand  heavily  upon  him,  and  in  a  deep  voice  pronounced  the 
single  word  "  TOM  !" 

In  a  moment  he  aroused  himself,  rubbed  his  eyes,  looked  up 
in  her  face,  and  replied, 

"  Holloa!  what's  out  now  ?  Clara,  is  that  you  ?  Where  did 
you  come  from  1" 

She  made  no  reply.  Then  he  sat  up  and  looked  about  the 
room,  recognizing  Marion,  and  also  the  man  he  knew  as  Smith. 
He  repeated,  "  Marion  and  Smith  here  1  That  is  all  right." 

"ToM  '."Clara  repeated  again. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?"  asked  Tom. 

"  You  are  invited  here  to  be  present  at  a  wedding.  Are 
you  sufficiently  awake  to  be  a  witness  ?" 

"  Certainly.  Of  course.  Go  ahead.  I  am  all  right,"  said 
Tom. 

Clara  turned  about  and  walked  to  the  clergyman. 

"  We  are  ready  now,  sir.  Please  proceed  with  the  solemn 
ceremony." 

She  was  joined  by  Walter,  and  the  clergyman  opened  his 
book  and  performed  the  ceremony  of  marriage  according  to  the 
Ritual.  When  it  was  Gnished,  and  the  reverend  man  of  God 
pronounced  them  man  and  wife,  Walter  kissed  Clara  affection- 

16* 


346  '  VIGOR. 

ately,  and  then  Henry  Robinson  and  Rose  were  made  "  one 
flesh."  Clara  then  approached  the  clergyman  and  placed  a  bill 
in  his  hand. 

"  Allow  me,"  said  she,  "  to  settle  the  fees  for  myself  and 
for  the  other  couple." 

The  clergyman,  perhaps  without  meaning  to  do  so,  glanced 
at  the  denomination  of  the  bill. 

"  Really,  madam,"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  there  is  some 
mistake  ;  this  note  is  for  one  hundred  dollars." 

"  So  I  supposed.  Keep  it.  If  it  is  unusual,  use  it  to  make 
others  as  happy  as  I  trust  you  have  made  several  in  the  room 
this  evening,"  quietly  observed  Mrs.  Walter  Granville. 

"  Where  can  [  find  pen  and  paper  ?"  asked  the  clergyman. 

"  That  lady,"  pointing  to  Mrs.  Woodruff,  "  will  show  you," 
and  she  whispered  to  the  clergyman,  "  May  I  ask  that  you  will 
give  them  certificates  for  each  marriage,  if  not  too  much  trou- 
ble ?  You  have  the  names." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  minister,  and  he  left  the  room. 

Marion  Monck  had  seen  so  many  astonishing  things  in  an 
experience  of  some  years,  that  he  had  long  ago  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  he  would  never  more  be  astonished  at  any 
thing  which  might  occur  in  New  York  ;  still  be  was  surprised, 
to  say  the  least  of  it,  at  the  marriage  of  the  somewhat  celebra- 
ted Miss  Norris  to  the  runaway  son  of  his  old  employer.  He 
offered  his  congratulations  to  the  lady  now  Mrs.  Granville  and 
to  her  husband.  The  former  requested  to  speak  with  Marion 
for  a  moment  alone. 

When  she  found  herself  thus  with  him,  she  observed,  "  Ma- 
rion, we  have  known  each-  other  a  long  time,  through  some 
strange  vicissitudes,  eh  ?  Is  it  not  a  strange  world  ?" 

"  Rather  so,"  replied  Marion  in  a  very  laconic  manner. 

"  Will  you  take  back  your  poetry  about  '  the  OUTCAST  ?'  I 
am  now  a  married  woman — married  to  a  man  whose  father  is 
an  eminent  merchant,  eh  ?" 

"  Exactly,  dear  lady  ;  I  understand  perfectly  well  your  sar- 
casm, but  it  don't  apply  ;  I  don't  take  it.  I  wrote  '  the  Out- 
cast '  when  it  did  apply.  You  were  at  old  Mother  Miller's, 
you  know.  Pon't  be  angry  ;  I  will  write  another  piece  which 
you  will  like  better  wheu  I  have  leisure,  and  call  it  '  The 
Wife,'  eh  ?" 

"  Now  stop  all  foolishness.  Here  is  five  dollars  :  take  it," 
said  Clara  Granville. 

"  What  is  out  now  1     Do  you  mean  to  insult  me  ?" 

"  No,  Marion,  far  from  it ;  but  I  want  this  notice   copied, 


VIGOR.  347 

and  to  appear  in  all  the  daily  papers  to-morrow  morning :  will 
you  attend  to  it  ?  I  know  you  will.  Say  nothing.  I  must 
speak  to  Mr.  Thomas  Granville,"  said  Mrs.  Granville. 

Marion  read  the  note.     It  was  as  follows  : 

"  Married — On  Tuesday  evening,  the  29th  instant,  by  the 
Rev.  Samuel  Fuller,  Walter  Granville,  Esq.,  son  of  W.  Pitt 
Granville,  of  this  city,  to  Miss  (Clara  Norris,  formerly  of  New 
Jersey." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  this  notice  appeared  in  all  the 
journals  the  next  day. 

Clara  approached  Tom  Granville.  She  seated  herself  by 
his  side.  This  gentleman  had  listened  to  all  that  was  going 
on.  He  was  perfectly  conscious  that  people  had  been  married 
— he  knew  that  Clara  Norris  had  married  his  friend  Smith, 
and  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  Smith  was  "  sold,"  accord- 
ing to  his  ideas  of  how  the  world  ought  to  wag  on  ;  but  he  had 
caught  no  other  name,  or  if  he  had,  it  had  not  fastened  itself 
upon  his  mind.  But  he  was  soon  to  be  enlightened.  Clara 
had  him  alone,  and  she  commenced. 

"  Tom  Granville,  do  you  remember  how  you  treated  me  in 
France  ?  Your  heartlessness,  your  villany — selling  me  to 
make  an  income  for  you  to  spend  upon  other  women  ?  Hear 
me,  and  don't  say  a  word.  You  know  this  is  true.  Grant  that 
I  in  many  things  did  wrong.  Does  that  justify  what  you  have 
done  ?" 

"  Oh  Clara,  don't  let  us  bring  up  old  sores.  Let  bycgones 
be  byegones.  You  have  married  Smith.  Nice  man,  I  dare 
say.  .Respectable  man,  evidently.  I'm  mum.  I'll  not  say  a 
word.  Do  you  understand  ?" 

"  Tom,  do  you  recollect  how  your  brother  humbled  me  when 
I  was  kept  by  Nordheim  ?  Do  you  know  the. exertions  that  he 
used  to  deprive  me  of  what  I  received  from  Mr.  Nordheim  ? 
He  called  me  harlot,  prostitute,  vile  wretch,  and  a  few  other 
names  that  a  woman  never  forgives  nor  forgets,"  said  Clara. 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?  It  don't  amount  to  anything  now,"  re- 
plied Tom. 

"  Your  wife,  your  niece — how  did  they  treat  me  ?"  asked 
the  now  excited  Clara. 

"  Oh,  what  matters  all  such  stuff — what  is  the  use  of  bring- 
ing  it  up  now  ?  This  is  your  wedding  night,  old  gal.  You 
have  married  Smith,  let's  all  be  jolly,  ehl"  said  Tom,  who 
was  still  under  the  influence  of  liquor  although  he  had  had  a 
good  nap  upon  the  sofa. 


348  VIGOR.    » 

"  Tom,  now  listen  to  mek  I  want  to  give  you  an  introduc- 
tion to  my  husband.  Walter,  come  here,"  said  Clara. 

Walter  approached  the  sofa. 

"  Mr.  Thomas  Granville,  allow  me  to  introduce  to  you  my 
husband,  Mr.  Walter  Granville.  Jf  I  am  not  mistaken,  he  is 
also  your  nephew  ;"  and  when  she  had  said  this,  she  gave  one 
loud  scream  of  hysterical  laughter,  and  then  sat  down.  Tom 
could  not  join  in  it ;  he  was  sobered,  and  asked, 

"  Walter,  is  this  so  ?" 

"  It  is,  uncle  Tom.     Did  you  not  know  me  ?" 

"  And  are  you  the  husband  of  this  lady  ?"  pointing  to  Clara, 
who  was  watching  this  conversation. 

"  I  believe  that  there  is  no  mistake  about  that,"  replied 
the  other. 

"  Then  may  God  have  mercy  upon  the  Granville  family  ;  we 
are  a  doomed  race,"  said  Toin  solemnly. 

"  Why,  uncle  Tom,  cheer  up  ;  don't  you  get  down-hearted. 
You  at  least  know  how  I  am  situated — a  cast-off.  I  found  a 
true  friend  in  Miss  Clara  when  I  had  no  other  friends,"  ob- 
served Walter.* 

"  I  am  a  broken-hearted  man,  nephew — crushed.  I  have  no 
hope  except  to  get  a  bed  at  night,  an  occasional  meal  of  vic- 
tuals, and  drink  and  clothes.  You  have  helped  me  along  on 
my  rough  bye  path,  and  I  thank  you  for  it.  I  do  not  know 
how  you  came  by  the  means  to  do  so.  But  what  matters  it, 
Clara  ?  God  bless  you.  You  are  my  niece  now.  What  you 
are  driving  at  is  beyond  my  ken.  Never  mind  ;  play  out  the 
game  your  own  way.  You  hold  ace,  king,  queen  and  jack  of 
the  Granville  family  in  your  own  hands,  and  your  suit  is 
trumps.  It  is  the  winning  hand.  Heaven  send  queen  to  Pitt 
Granville.  '  When  will  he  hear  the  news  ?"  continued  Tom. 

Clara  and  Walter  had  listened  attentively  to  the  abrupt  lan- 
guage of  uncle  Tom.  Both  knew  that  in  other  days,  when  his 
proud  spirit  was  dominant,  such  a  marriage  would  have  been 
repudiated  on  the  instant  if  it  had  cost  him  his  life  blood.  But 
they  knew  that  stern  poverty  will  humble  the  haughtiest  heart. 
He  who  lacks  food  for  months,  he  who  stoops  to  almost  beg 
from  friends  a  shilling  for  a  night's  lodging  ;  he  who  is  ragged, 
shirtless,  and  wants  the  ordinary  comforts  of  even  a  wash-bowl 
and  towel,  soon  comes  down  to  that  low  level,  that  were  hia 
wife,  sister,  or  even  mother,  placed  in  affluenc.e  at  the  price 
of  her  virtue,  would  receive  a  portion  of  the  wages  of  vice, 
and  be  thankful  for  it.  Pride  of  birth  or  anything  else  van- 


VIGOR.  349 

ishes  into  thin  air,  when  placed  in  contact  with  the  silent  deg- 
radation of  poverty.  Marion  had  left  for  down  town. 

Mrs.  Woodruff  had  left  for  her  apartments,  and  Henry,  with 
the  happy  Mrs.  Robinson,  had  gone  to  the  nuptial  couch.  The 
clergyman  had  also  taken  his  leave,  and  man  and  wife,  with 
that  worldly  uncle,  were  alone.  At  last  he  bade  them  good 
night.  Walter  did  not  rise.  Clara  followed  him  out  of  the 
room.  As  they  stood  in  the  hall,  she'said  : 

"Tom  Granville,  I  know  what  you  would  say.  Thi?  will  be 
a  fearful  thing  for  Pitt.  He  will  see  it  in  the  morning  papers. 
Will  he  die  r 

"  No.     It  will  make  him  mad — stark,  raving  mad." 

"  Tom,  you  may  need  money.  Take  this  roll — take  it  kindly. 
I  don't  know  how  much  there  is — two  or  three  hundred.  You 
are  a  man  of  the  world — use  it  wisely,  Tom.  Good  night." 

Thomas  Granville,  late  United  States  Consul  in  the  second 
city  of  France,  was  in  the  street.  The  moon  was  shining 
brightly  over  his  head,  and  he  had  more  money  in  his  pocket 
than  had  been  there  for  many  long  months.  As  he  passed 
down  Broadway,  he  soliloquized, 

"  Last  night  I  had  no  bread — I  had  no  money.  I  had  barely 
a  few  dirty  coppers  to  keep  me  from  sleeping  in  the  streets — 
no  clothes — no  decent  boots — no  hat — no  cravat-— no  nothing. 
To-night  I  have  as  much  as  I  need.  A  hotel — a  room  to  go  to, 
and  money  in  my  pocket.  How  did  I  get  it  all  1  Least  said 
is  soonest  mended.  From  this  day  forth  I  will  never  be  with- 
out money.  Gold  is  all. 

'  That  yellow  slave 

Will  knit  and  break  religions  ;  bless  the  accursed  ; 
Make  the  hoar  leprosy  adored,  place  thieves, 
And  give  them  title,  knee  and  approbation 
With  senators  on  the  bench.' 

"Whatever  else  I  lose,  I  will  never  be  again  without  gold." 

Thomas  Granville  reached  his  hotel.  A  silver  shilling  am- 
ply rewarded  the  porter  for  opening  the  door,  and  he  went  to 
his  room. 


350  VIGOR. 


CHAPTER  LYII. 

Perils  of  Youth  in  ACM;  York — Tammany  Hall.  Committee — Marion  Monck's 
first  Article  in  the  Herald — The  Spanish  Boarding  House,  and  the  two 
Peruvian  Girls. 

THERE  are  few  situations  of  more  intense  peril  in  human 
life  than  to  be  in  a  large  city,  needing  money  for  the  ordinary 
necessaries  of  existence,  or  without  any  regular  source  of  in- 
come. The  man  who  works  from  six  in  the  morning  until  dark 
at  night,  even  if  he  only  gets  a  dollar  a  day,  is  comparatively 
independent,  and  is  not  exposed  to  temptation.  His  wages  are 
small,  but  he  makes  his  expenses  bear  a  fair  proportion  to  his 
income.  If  he  earns  but  six  dollars  a  week,  his  board  costs 
him  but  two — his  clothes  do  not  cost  him  fifty  cents  a  week, 
and  his  other  expenses,  for  pipes  and  tobacco,  and  his  glass  of 
beer  or  gin,  may  make  a  dollar  more  per  week,  and  he  actually 
can  lay  up  two  and  a  half  dollars  per  week.  Women,  wine  and 
cards  are  beyond  his  wishes.  His  income  would  go  but  a  lit- 
tle way  for  the  indulgence  of  either,  and  he  never  gives  them 
even  a  passing  thought.  If  he  gets  out  of  employ  as  a  day 
laborer,  it  is  not  a  source  of  much  anxiety,  fur  as  he  has  no 
pride  to  get  over,  but  is  content  to  take  up  with  whatever 
turns  up,  he  soon  finds  something  to  do,  and  he  is  at  his  ease 
once  more. 

This  is  not  the  case  with  the  young  man  who  has  been  a  clerk 
in  a  store.  He  considers  a  clerkship  an  honorable  employ. 
ment.  He  engages  in  it,  hoping  one  day  to  become  an  em- 
ployer, a  merchant  on  his  own  hook.  From  a  hundred  dollars 
a  year  his  salary  is  increased  to  a  thousand,  but  extravagant 
habits  have  increased  with  it.  His  board  alone  costs  him  two 
hundred  to  four  hundred  dollars  a  year.  His  clothes  are  two 
hundred  more.  He  visits  bad  houses  two  or  three  times  a 
week,  adding  two  hundred  dollars  for  this  tax  ;  and  he  smokes 
cigars,  drinks  occasionally,  goes  to  the  theatre  and  other  places 
of  amusement — and  these  last  inconsiderable  expenses  count 
up  easily  two  dollars  a  day  ;  the  sum  per  year  is  about  seven 
hundred  dollars.  Add  it  to  the  eight  hundred  dollars  already 
enumerated,  and  our  clerk  is  living  at  the  rate  of  fifteen  hun- 


VIGOR.  351 

dred  dollars,  when  he  only  gets  one  thousand.  This  discre- 
pancy of  five  hundred  dollars  must  come  out  of  somebody.  As 
a  general  rule,  a  portion  falls  on  the  place  where  he  boards — 
his  tailor,  his  bootmaker,  and  a  few  others  who  have  trusted 
him,  share  the  deficiency  among  them.  It  is  bad  enough  when 
the  salary  continues  steady;  but  when  a  young  man  who  has 
been  living  at  this  rate,  gets  out  of  a  situation,  and  out  of 
money,  in  a  place  like  New  York,  the  chances  are  fearfully 
against  him.  Temptations  surround  him  on  all  sides.  If  he 
stays  in  New  York,  his  fall  is  certaio — his  degradation  sure. 
He  begs  and  borrows  to  the  full  extent  of  his  tether.  These 
sources  used  up,  he  has  nothing  left  but  to  steal.  If  he  is  an 
American,  he  will  not  turn  to  manual  labor,  and  he  will  not 
take  menial  service.  Who  ever  heard  of  an  American  servant, 
and  how  far  will  one  travel  in  New  York  before  he  finds  an 
American  day  laborer  ? 

Marion  Monck  was  out  of  a  situation,  yet  he  had  hopes  ahead. 
Hopes,  however,  although  very  flattering  stock  in  one's  imagi- 
nation, will  not  pay  a  board  bill,  obtain  a  decent  suit  of  clothes, 
a  pair  of  boots  or  a  hat.  The  young  fellow  had  a  proud  spirit. 
He  would  not  beg  if  he  could  help  it — he  would  not  have  writ- 
ten home  to  his  parents  for  aid.  He  would  have  cut  his  right1 
hand  off  first.  The  Count  occasionally  let  him  have  money, 
and  had  made  Marion  promise  that  he  would  come  to  him  (the 
Count,)  before  he  borrowed  money,  or  before  he  took  any  new 
situation.  Consequently  Marion  was  resting  upon  his  oars. 
The  Count  Falsechinski  had  married,  and  was  spending  several 
weeks  out.  of  town  with  his  .bride.  Marion  did  not  know  where 
he  was. 

He  had  boarded  in  the  house  in  Nassau  street  for  many 
months.  As  we  have  said  before,  his  room  was  the  rear  one  on 
the  third  floor,  that  of  the  editor  was  in  the  front.  Sometimes 
they  talked  together,  but  Marion  was  very  shy  of  any  over- 
tures. He  had  no  confidence  in  his  own  ability  to  write,  and 
even  if  he  had  succeeded  as  a  writer,  his  prejudices  were  alto- 
gether in  favor  of  success  as  a  merchant — he  considered  it 
more  reputable  than  success  as  an  editor.  In  after  life  his 
views  underwent  a  great  change.  He  learned  to  do  full  justice 
to  the  power  and  the  respectability  of  the  pen. 

Soon  after  the  marriage  of  the  Count  Falsechinski  with  Miss 
Grasper,  Marion  Monck  settled  his  bill  with  the  landlady  in 
Nassau  street,  and  removed  to  a  Spanish  boarding-house  in 
Fulton  street  near  Cliff.  It  was  kept  by  a  Spaniard  named 
Alfayez,  who  agreed  to  give  Marion  a  good  room  and  a  seat  at 


352  VIGOR, 

the  table  for  a  moderate  sum  per  week.  Marion  was  a  good 
Spanish  scholar,  but  he  wanted  practice  in  speaking  it.  This 
was  a  good  opportunity,  and  he  availed  himself  of  it.  We  have 
somewhere  mentioned  that  Marion  Monck  had  a  great  inkling 
for  politics.  His  sympathies  were  with  the  Democratic  party, 
owing  probably  to  the  fact  that  when  a  clerk  with  Mr.  Gran- 
ville,  who  was  a  Whig,  he  became  a  Democrat  from  the  mere 
love  of  opposition.  At  that  time  there  were  two  Committees 
that  regulated  Tammany  Hall ;  one  was  called  the  "  Old  Men's 
General  Committee,"  and, the  other  the  "  Young  Men's  General 
Democratic  Committee."  These  Committees  were  elected 
once  a  year.  Marion  had  always  been  elected  to  the  latter 
Committee  from  the  ward  in  which  he  lived,  and  as  he  was 
ready  with  the  pen,  extremely  willing  to  work,  and  had  no 
game  to  play,  or  spoils  to  seek  after,  he  was  generally  selected 
as  one  of  the  secretaries*  of  the  "  Young  Men's  Committee," 
and  the  work  fell  upon  him,  as  it  always  does  upon  the  free 
horse,  his  colleague  being  contented  to  sign  anything  that  Ma- 
rion had  drawn  up  or  engrossed. 

On  one  occasion  the  Committee  had  a  very  exciting  debate. 
A  procession  was  to  be  got  up  in  reference  to  a  political  vie- 
'tory  in  Maine  or  some  other  State.  In  this  victorious  proces- 
sion several  very  distinguished  military  men  had  volunteered 
to  act  as  Marshals,  but  they  refused  to  do  so  unless  all  the 
other  marshals,  were  military  men. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  chairman  of  the  Committee.  "  That 
matter  can  be  easily  arranged.  There  are  to  be  three  mar- 
shals from  each  ward — make  'em  all  military  men  ;"  and  as 
each  name  of  a  marshal  was  proposed  and  accepted,  the  chair- 
man observed,  "  Make  '  Bill  Gage  '  a  general." 

"  Enoch  Camp." — "  Make  him  a  major.'' 

"Nick  Dimoud,  first  ward." — "  Make  Nick  a  general." 

"  Bill  Dennis,"  said  the  Secretary. 

"  Make  Bill  a  major,"  said  the  chairman. 

"  Joe  Sweet,"  called  out  the  Secretary. 

"  Make  Joe  Sweet  a  Colonel,"  dictated  the  chairman. 

"  Thomas  McSpeddou,"  said  the  Secretary. 

"  Put  General  to  Tom's  name." 

•*  William  Shaler,  sixth  ward." 

"  Make  Bill  Shaler  a  Colonel — he  has  been  in  the  wars  ;" 
and  in  this  ludicrous  way  the  list,  which  was  to  be  published, 
was  made  out,  amidst  the  screams  and  shouts  of  the  Tam- 
many Hall  Committee.  When  the  list  was  fairly  completed, 
word  was  sent  to  the  real  Generals,  Morris,  Ward,  Stryker. 


VIGOR.  353 

Arcularius,  and  others,  that  the  Committee  had  placed  none 
but  military  men  on  the  list  of  marshals  from  the  different 
wards. 

It  was  late  when  the  Committee  adjourned.  It  was  also 
Saturday  evening.  Marion  passed  down  Nassau  street,  and 
into  the  Herald  publication  office.  Somewhat  unusual  it  would 
be  now,  but  at  that  hour  in  those  days  Mr.  Bennett  was  still 
in  the  office.  The  two  commenced  a  conversation,  and  in  the 
course  of  it  Marion  Monck  related  the  ludicrous  debate  that 
had  occurred  that  evening  in  the  committee  room  in  Tammany 
Hall.  It  appeared  very  droll  to  the  editor,  and  irresistibly 
comic.  He  actually  held  his  sides  while  he  roared  with  laugh- 
ter. Marion  did  not  laugh  at  all. 

"  I  am  going  home — good  night,"  said  the  editor. 

Marion  returned  his  "  Good  night,"  and  passed  to  his  Span- 
ish boarding-house. 

On  his  way  down,  it  occurred  to  him  that  his  month  was  up, 
and  that  he  owed  the  Spaniard  twenty  dollars  that  very  day. 

"  I  am  dead  broke  !  Suppose  he  was  to  ask  me  for  it  ?  I 
have  not  got  five  dollars  in  the  world,  and  the  Count  is  off 
somewhere.  When  he  will  be  back,  Heaven  only  knows !" 

These  were  the  thoughts  of  Marion  Mouck  as  he  reached  the 
door  in  Fulton  street.  He  rang  the  bell.  Alfayez,  the  pro- 
prietor, opened  it  himself.  It  was  an  unusual  thing  for  him  to 
do,  and  Marion  expected  to  be  dunned  for  his  bill. 

He  was  not  doomed  to  be  disappointed.  "  You  no  pay  me 
my  money  to-day  1"  exclaimed  the  Spaniard  in  English.  "  I 
want  him.  You  got  him  now,  eh  ?" 

lf  Sorry  to  say  I  have  not,  Senor  Alfayez,  but  I  suppose  a 
few  days  hence  will  answer  all  purposes,"  asked  Marion 
Monck. 

"  No,  Senor,  he  no  do  two  tree  days — bym-bye.  I  want  de 
money.  Ahora,  what  you  call  now  ?  No  do  two  three  days. 
Hab  got  him  ?"  demanded  the  Spaniard,  who  had  admitted 
Marion  into  the  hotel,  but  seemed  disposed  to  bar  his  progress 
to  his  room. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Alfayez,  I  have  not  got  the  money  to-night. 
You  are  in  no  danger  of  losing  the  amount,  although  I  am  com- 
paratively a  stranger  to  you.  My  trunks  are  worth  more  than  ten 
times  your  bill.  However,  to  satisfy  you,  to-morrow  you  shall 
have  the  twenty  dollars,"  said  Marion. 

"  Bueno.  Manana,  Senor.  Buenos  noches," — and  after 
this  parting  salutation,  which  means  "  Good.  To-morrow 
morning.  Good  night,"  Marion  went  up  to  his  room.  Where 


354  VIGOR. 

to  get  the  money  on  Sunday  morning  was  not  so  clear,  and  it 
•was  a  long  time  before  he  could  get  asleep.  The  next  morn- 
ing Marion  Monck  rose  very  early.  At  the  breakfast  table  he 
met  two  sisters,  very  sweet  girls,  who  spoke  Spanish  to  him 
upon  every  occasion.  They  were  lovely  creatures  from  the 
city  of  Lima,  in  Peru,  and  their  father,  a  grey  bearded  old 
Peruvian,  was  their  protector.  He,  of  course,  was  stopping  in 
the  house.  These  pretty  senoritas  were  aged  thirteen  and  fif- 
teen, extremely  anxious  to  learn  English.  Marion  Monck  had 
already  made  a  bargain  with  them  that  he  should  teach  them 
English  while  they  kept  him  in  practice  with  his  Spanish. 
Very  probably  Marion  felt  anxiety  to  end  the  financial  war  be- 
tween the  Spanish  proprietor  Alfayez  and  himself  as  much,  on 
account  of  these  two  extremely  beautiful  pupils  as  for  any  other 
reason.  At  any  rate,  no  sooner  had  he  finished  his  breakfast 
and  smoked  a  cigar,  than  he  hurried  up  to  the  office  of  the 
New  York  Herald.  He  inquired  for  Mr.  Bennett. 

"  In  his  private  office,"  was  the  reply,  and  thither  went  Ma- 
rion Monck. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  the  editor,  and  then  continued  mak- 
ing some  memorandum  in  a  small  book.  One  of  the  most 
prominent  traits  in  the  character  of  Mr.  Bennett,  and  which  is 
only  known  to  those  who  know  him  as  well  as  he  knows  him- 
self, is  his  perfect  editorial  closeness.  He  does  not  let  his 
left  hand  know  what  his  right  hand  writes.  He  will  appear  to 
be  communicative  and  frank,  and  yet  what  he  says  is  the  very 
frankness  of  hypocrisy.  His  hearer  gains  nothing,  obtains 
nothing  from  him.  He  will  listen  unmoved  to  what  he  ^new 
before,  but  the  teller  will  not  discover  any  sign  of  impatience 
or  any  indication  that  Mr.  Bennett  is  already  aware  of  what  he 
is  telling  him. 

No  man  in  the  city  of  New  York  is  better  posted  in  refer- 
ence to  the  affairs  of  the  city,  the  prominent  men  in  it,  or  in  its 
various  wards  than  Mr.  Bennett.  Consequently,  when  Marion 
Monck  related  to  him  the  scene  at  Tammany  Hall,  which  to  a 
man  not  familiar  with  the  prominent  military  and  political  men 
of  the  day,  it  would  have  been  dry  and  uninteresting,  to  Mr. 
Bennett,  who  knew  the  name  and  character  of  every  man,  it 
was  uncontrollably  comic  and  ludicrous. 

When  he  had  finished  his  work,  he  turned  to  Marion  Monck. 

"  Well,  Marion,  what  have  you  got  new  this  morning  ?" 

"  Nothing,  sir.  I  have  called  here  this  morning  for  a  very 
particular  purpose,"  said  Marion. 


VIGOR.  355 

"  Indeed.  It  is  raining  in  torrents,  is  it  not  ?  What  can  I 
do  for  you  ?"  Mr  Bennett  asked  kindly. 

Marion  hesitated  a  moment.  He  had  never,  since  he  had 
known  Mr.  Bennett,  asked  him  for  a  loan  of  money  in  any 
shape,  but  this  morning  he  felt  that  he  had  no  other  resource, 
and  so  he  repliejj,  "  Yes,  sir,  it  is  indeed  raining  very  hard, 
but  the  fact  is,  I  am  in  a  tight  place.  You  know  I  am  down 
at  that  Spanish  boarding-house.  My  month  was  up  yesterday, 
and  unless  I  get  twenty  dollars  this  morning  I  do  believe  the 
old  Spaniard  will  turn  me  out  of  his  house  to-day.  I  could 
get  the  money  if  it  was  any  other  day  but  Sunday.  As  it  is, 
if  you  will  lend  me  the  twenty  to-day,  I  will  return  it  to  you 
to-morrow," — and  Marion  felt  relieved,  that  the  application  was 
made,  whatever  might  be  its  fate. 

"  No  ;  I  never  lend  money,"  was  the  abrupt  reply. 

"  Oh,  well,  never  mind.  There  has  been  no  harm  done  by 
my  asking  you.  I  hated  to  do  it,  but  I  must  have  money,  and 
stand  up  to  the  rack,  fodder  or  no  fodder.  As  it  is  '  no  fodder,' 
I  must  try  somewhere  else,"  said  Marion  Monck. 

"  There  is  no  harm  in  your  applying  to  me,"  observed  Mr. 
Bennett,  who  wrote  some  thing  on  a  small  piece  of  paper. 
Marion  rose  to  go.  Mr.  Bennett  held  up  the  paper  and  ob- 
served, "  Wait  a  moment.  Here  is  an  order  for  the  exact  sum 
you  wish  to  borrow.  I  will  not  lend  it  to  you.  You  must 
earn  it." 

"Earn  it!  Earn  twenty  dollars.  How  in  the  world  am  I 
to  do  that  ?"  demanded  Marion. 

"  Last  night  you  told  me  a  very  interesting  story  of  some 
doings  in  Tammany  Hall  in  reference  to  a  Democratic  victori- 
ous procession  that  is  soon  to  come  off.  You  made  me  almost 
go  into  convulsions  with  laughter  by  the  funny  way  in  which 
you  told  it,"  continued  the  editor. 

"  Well,"  said  Marion. 

"  Now,  here  is  my  order,  for  which  you  can  get  twenty  dol- 
lars when  you  go  down  stairs.  There,  on  that  table,  is  fools- 
cap paper,  and  pen,  and  ink.  Write  out  what  you  told  me, 
and  the  order  is  yours,"  coolly  remarked  the  editor. 

"  It  will  take  me  all  day  to  do  it,  and  I  don't  think  it  will  be 
fit  to  read  then/'^said  Marion 

"  Never  mind  that.  Do  as  I  say,  and  do  it  as  near  as  possi- 
ble to  what  you  told  me,  and  1  shall  be  satisfied,"  said  the 
editor. 

Marion  took  a  seat  and  went  to  work.  In  less  than  two 
hours  he  had  filled  ten  sides  of  foolscap  paper.  He  handed  it 


356  VIGOR. 

to  Mr.  Bennett,  who  did  not  even  pay  him  the  compliment  of 
reading  it,  but  laid  it  aside,  at  the  same  time  handing  Marion 
the- order  for  twenty.  He  took  his  leave,  and  down  stairs  he 
received  the  money. 

"  I  suppose  he  made  me  write  out  all  that  stuff  for  the  pur- 
pose of  affording  him  an  excuse  to  lend  me  twenty,"  thought 
Marion.  • 

The  next  morning,  however,  when  he  opened  the  Herald,  he 
found  his  article.  "It  made  two  and  a  half  columns  on  the  out- 
side of  the  Herald.  It  was  extremely  ludicrous.  It  was  a 
point.  One  of  Mr.  Bennett's  frequent  great  points,  and  when 
his  sagacity  as  an  editor  was  never  at  fault,  either  in  the  sub- 
ject or  manner  of  handling  it,  no  matter  how  incapable  the  pen 
he  made  use  of.  There  were  tens  of  thousands  of  military 
men  in  New  York.  There  were  an  equal  number  of  Demo- 
crats. Such  an  article,  naming  the  principal  leaders  in  both 
the  political  and  military  ranks,  and  making  them  figure  in  a 
ludicrous  manner,  would  soon  find  its  way  through  the  streets. 
At  ten  o'clock  that  day  as  high  as  a  dollar  was  paid  for  a 
Herald.  There  were  none  to  be  had  at  any  price.  It  was  one 
of  those  millions  of  original  articles  that  in  a  great  many  years 
had  made  the  Herald  talked  about.  Mr.  Bennett  is  the  most 
suggestive  mind  in  the  United  State.?.  He  could  keep  a  hun- 
dred papers  filled  with  original  matter  if  he  had  the  mechani- 
cal minds  and  hands  to  work  under  him  in  a  ifficient  force. 

The  appearance  of  this  article  was  a  matter  of  astonishment 
to  Marion  Monck.  It  was  the  first  newspaper  article  he  ever 
wrote.  He  did  not  believe  that  he  could  write  one.  Mr. 
Bennett  had  told  him  that  he  could.  He  had  made  him  do  it. 
The  article  was  written.  It  appeared  in  the  Herald.  Marion 
read  it  and  could  not  doubt  that  he  had  written  it.  "  It  wa* 
an  accident,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  succeeded  by  Mr.  Ben- 
nett telling  rne  how  to  do  it.  I  doubt  whether  I  could  do  it 
again."  With  the  twenty  dollars  he  hurried  from  the  Herald 
office  out  into  the  rain  and  down  to  the  Spanish  boarding- 
house.  He  called  for  Alfayez,  handed  him  the  twenty,  the 
Spaniard  gave  him  a  receipt,  and  a  friendship  commenced 
which  lasted  many  years.  After  paying  his  bill,  Marion  passed 
up  stairs  to  the  parlor  occupied  by  the  family  of  the  Peruvian. 
He  found  the  two  senoritas  pouting  because.he  had  not  arrived 
sooner  to  give  them  their  lesson.  The  father  was  in  his  own 
room,  and  the  old  duenna  was  in  another  part  of  the  house. 
The  charming  pupils,  with  their  long  dark  locks  floating  loose 
over  their  white  and  almost  naked  shoulders  and  bosoms,  sat 


VIGOR.  357 

upon  the  sofa  with  Marion  between  them.  For  some  time  the 
stuJies  went  on  very  smoothly.  Marion  had  procured  a  book 
with  Spanish  and  English  conversation  upon  each  page.  From 
this  be  taught  his  pupils  and  they  taught  him  to  pronounce 
Spanish.  Marion  finally  passed  an  arm  around  each  of  their 
waists.  The  youngest,  Inez,  sprang  up  and  locked  the  door, 
saying,  "What  would  the  senora  say,  if  she  came  in  and  caught 
us  ?"  and  then  resumed  her  seat.  Marion  tried  the  lips  of  the 
sister  who  had  fastened  the  door,  and  she  returned  kiss  for 
kiss  with  an  ardor  that  surprised  him.  Then  the  elder  sister, 
Isabel,  got  up  and  poutingly  observed  that  Marion  did  not  care, 
for  her,  or  he  would  kiss  her  as  well  as  Inez.  This  invitation 
was  not  lo«t,  and  the  book  was  soon  laid  aside,  while  Marion 
gave  way  to  the  loving  kisses  and  caresses  of  the  two  beautiful 
sisters.  They  were  innocent,  and  so  was  he.  What  a  strange 
contrast  between  American  and  Spanish  girls.  Two  Americans 
mifht  be  alone  with  a  young  man,  and  their  conduct  would  be 
the  same-as  if  their  pare.its  were  present — they  are  accustomed 
to  depend  on  their  own  self-respect — they  are  to  be  trusted, 
and  their  conduct  would  be  modest  and  prudent,  without  being 
afraid  of  the  opinion  of  their  parents.  Not  so  Spanish  girls. 
They  are  watched.  They  are  shown  early  that  they  cannot  bo 
trusted.  They  are  not  allowed  to  associate  with  the  young  of 
the  other  sex.  Hence,  when  a  chance  occurs  like  that  with 
Marion,  they  only  regard  the  danger  of  being  found  out.  They 
fondled  their  teacher  as  if  he  had  been  a  young  kitten,  and  he 
returned  their  innocent  embraces  and  kisses.  Then  they  fin- 
ished their  lessons,  and  he  retired  to  his  own  room. 


CHAPTER  LVII1. 

Pitt  Granville  reads  the  no'.ice  of  his  sons  marriige  —  Seeks  out  his  Brothtr 
Tom  at  43  Centre  street — Thomas  Granville  believti  in  luck — Buys  a  Lot- 
tery Ticket. 

WHEN  Pitt  Granville  opened  his  morning  paper,  and  his 
eye  fell  upon  the  few  lines  which  informed  him  that  his  son — 
his  only  son,  had  married  '  Clara  Norris,'  the  paper  fell  from 
his  hands,  and  a  few  moments  after,  when  one  of  his  clerks  en- 
tered the  office,  he  found  him  lying  senseless  upon  the  floor.  A 
physician  was  sent  for  at  once  :  he  bled  the  old  gentleman, 
and  then  recommended  that  a  carriage  should  be  sent  for,  and 
that  he  should  be  conveyed  to  his  home  as  speedily  as  ppssi- 


358  VIGOR. 

ble,  and  there  be  kept  perfectly  quiet.  No  one  present  had 
the  slightest  idea  of  the  real  cause  of  this  sudden  illness  ;  the 
doctor  pronounced  it  a  fit  of  apoplexy. 

When  the  unhappy  father  reached  home  he  refused  to  go  to 
bed,  but  sent  every  one  out  of  the  room  except  his  daughter. 
He  informed  Isabella  of  what  had  occurred. 

"  Bell,  my  heart  is  broken  ;  I  shall  never  hold  up  my  head 
more.  If  he  had  died  I  should  have  mourned  for  him,  for  he 
was  my  son,  although  a  disobedient  one  ;  but  to  bring  dis- 
grace upon  us  all,  to  marry  one  of  the  most  notorious  courte- 
zans in  New  York,  the  very  one  that  ruined  my  poor  brother 
Tom — Oh,  this  is  dreadful,  and  I  feel  as  if  my  senses  were 
leaving  me." 

Isabella  was  deeply  affected,  and  endeavored  to  soothe  her 
father,  and  prevent  if  possible  another  fit,  for  she  had  been 
told  by  the  physician  that  any  violent  agitation  would  induce 
a  relapse.  She  sent  a  note  to  Colonel  Benson,  and  ere  an  hour 
the  cool  old  Englishman  was  with  them.  He  was  more  shocked 
at  what  he  called  Walter's  mad  infatuation  than  even  the  fath- 
er, whom  he  advised  to  break  it  up.  "  Get  the  parties  di- 
vorced, or  buy  the  lady  off  with  a  sum  of  money."  To  all  of 
these  suggestions  the  humbled  father  turned  a  deaf  ear.  "  No, 
Colonel ;  as  he  has  made  his  bed,  let  him  lie  on  it ;  I  will  not 
interfere — no,  net  to  save  his  life  ;  it  is  too  late  now.  He 
must  have  been  in  New  York  sometime  without  my  know- 
ledge ;  had  he  come  to  me  at  once — had  he — but  what  am  I 
talking  about?  He  is  ruined,  body  and  soul,  and  our  name  is 
the  laughing  stock  of  all  the  good  and  the  respectable  in  New 
York.  If  my  business  was  only  closed  up,  I  would  sell  every 
thing  and  go  back  to  England,"  said  poor  Mr.  Granville. 

Colonel  Benson  urged  it  upon  Mr.  Granville  that  he  must 
not  take  the  matter  too  much  to  heart.  "  Bear  in  mind,"  he 
added,  "  that  you  have  another  child  and  a  grandchild — a  glo- 
rious fellow  too,  who  must  take  your  son  Walter's  place.  For 
their  sakes,  don't  give  up." 

"  I  will  not.  I  will  try  not  to  do  so.  I  will  try  and  forget 
my  unworthy  son.  But,  Colonel,  where  is  my  brother  Tho- 
mas ?  I  must  try  and  find  him  out.  He  too  is  unworthy  of  a 
thought — but,  poor  devil,  he  is  a  fool.  He  does  the  best  he 
can,  but  he  is  half  imbecile,  and  don't  know  wrong  from  right. 
He  must  not  starve.  That  affair  of  our  old  friend  Mac  Neil — 
was  it  not  dreadful,  to  die  all  alone  in  the  hospital  !  Poor 
Tom,  I  am  afraid  he  is  following  in  the  same  direction.  I  have 
not  heard  from  him  for  a  long  time.  He  must  be  seen  before 


VIGOR.  359 

it  is  too  late.  I  have  heard  that  he  can  be  found  at  a  place 
No.  46  Centre  street.  I  will  go  there  at  once.  I  feel  much 
better  :  will  you  go  with  me,  Colonel  ?"  asked  Granville. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Colonel  Benson  remonstrated,  and  tried 
to  persuade  his  friend  that  such  a  course  would  be  worse  than 
useless.  He  was  not  to  be  persuaded,  and  when  the  Colonel, 
hoping  that  his  refusal  to  go  would  prevent  Mr.  Granville  from 
doing  so  foolish  a  thing,  refused  to  accompany  him,  Mr.  Gran- 
ville rose  and  said, 

"  Well  then,  Colonel,  I  will  go  alone,  and  perhaps  it  is 
better  that  you  should  not  go." 

Isabel  tried  to  dissuade  her  father  from  going  out,  but  his 
mind  was  fully  made  up.  Colonel  Benson  accompanied  him 
as  far  as  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Chambers  street,  and 
there  they  shook  hands  and  parted,  the  haughty  British  Colo- 
nel wishing  his  friend  success  in  his  present  attempt. 

When  the  latter  reached  Centre  street,  he  commenced  ex- 
amining the  numbers  in  order  to  ascertain  whereabouts  No. 
46  was  located.  He  was  in  a  quarter  of  the  city  with  which 
he  was  no  more  acquainted  than  with  the  localities  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  North  Pole.  He  kept  up  Centre  street 
on  the  right  hand  side.  At  last  he  found  the  right  number, 
and  entered.  His  striking  appearance  attracted  Jernmy's  at- 
tention the  moment  he  entered  the  door.  There  was  indeed  a 
strong  resemblance  between  the  brothers.  There  were  in  the 
store  the  usual  quantity  of  loafers,  and  the  visitor,  after  pass- 
ing his  eyes  over  them,  took  a  seat.  Jemmy  the  bar-keeper 
had  not  had  his  eyes  off  the  new-comer  for  a  moment.  As  he 
entered  he  was  serving  a  customer,  but  when  he  had  finished 
that  duty  and  placed  the  money  in  the  drawer,  he  crossed  to- 
wards where  the  merchant  had  seated  himself. 

"  Can  I  serve  to  you  anything,  sir  ?"  asked  Jemmy. 

The  merchant  laid  down  the  paper. 

"  Yes,  if  you  have  any  good  brandy  I  would  like  some  in 
water.  I  want  good — no  trash  ;  here  is  a  dollar.  If  you  have 
no  good  brandy  here,  send  out  for  some  " 

"  I  have  some  in  a  demijohn  of  the  very  choicest  kind.  It 
was  selected  by  Colonel  Mac  Neil,  and  kept  exclusively  for  his 
use  :  he  was  a  judge  of  that  article,  but  since  his  death,  no 
one  has  used  any  of  it." 

How  long  Jemmy  would  have  gone  on  it  is  impossible  to 
say,  but  no  sooner  had  the  name  of  Colonel  Mac  Neil  caught 
the  ear  of  the  old  gentleman  than  he  interrupted  him. 

"  Who  did  you  say — Colonel   Mac  Neil  ?  what  did   he    do 


360  VIGOR. 

here,  or  what  do  you  know  about  him  ?"  asked  Mr.  Granville, 
hastily. 

Jemmy  was  now  on  his  hobby.  He  informed  his  listener 
that  Colonel  Mac  Neil  kept  a  room  for  fifty  dollars  a  year  ;  that 
his  old  bureau  had  stood  in  the  rear  of  that  very  store  until 
recently,  when  it  was  removed  to  his  widow's  house.  He' told 
him  how  the  Colonel  got  hurt,  and  of  the  money  which  the 
Count  Falsechinski  had  given  him  ;  of  Mr.  O'Doemall,  who 
was  last  seen  to  converse  with  the  Colonel — of  Marion  Monck 
— -of  the  pledging  of  the  pistols,  and  of  his  opening  the  store 
the  next  morning,  and  of  finding  Mac  Neil  all  bloody  ;  of  his 
being  taken  to  the  hospital  by  young  Marion  Monck,  and  how 
•surprised  every  body  about  the  place  was  to  hear  next  day  that 
the  Colonel  was  dead. 

"  Not  a  word  more  ;  I  cannot  bear  it,  it  is  too  frightful.  I 
knew  the  Colonel  well.  Here,  my  lad.  I  know  you  were  very 
kind  to  poor  Mac  ;  he  was  a  friend  of  mine,  and  a  hard  fate 
he  had  !  Take  this  and  put  it  in  your  pocket.  I  give  it  to 
you  out  of  regard  to  his  memory,''  and  at  the  same  time  he 
took  from  from  his  pocket  a  roll  of  money,  from  which  he  se- 
lected a  ten  dollar  bill.  Presenting  it  to  Jemmy,  who  thanked 
him  very  warmly,  the  young  man  resumed  attending  to  the 
customers  who  were  cursing  at  his  absence. 

Mr.  Granville  continued  buried  in  deep  thought.  Occasion- 
ally his  eyes  would  glance  over  the  casks  and  barrels  of  liquor, 
but  his  thoughts  were  of  a  most  melancholy  character.  A  thou- 
sand traits  of  the  amiable  disposition  of  his  friend  flashed 
across  his  memory,  and  he  soliloquized  "  Here  he  kept  out  of 
the  gay  world  and  his  former  associates  for  years  ;  he  too,  the 
gallant,  wealthy,  successful  and  envied  favorite  of  fashionable 
society,  was  reduced  to  this  haunt,  and  to  a  room  at  a  dollar 
a  week  in  the  neighborhood.  Good  God!  what  may  we  not* 
all  expect  ?  what  may  not  the  most  powerful  and  wealthy  be 
reduced  to  !  Perhaps  it  will  be  my  fate  :  who  knows  ?  Here 
too  is  a  favorite  haunt  of  my  poor  brother  Thomas  ;  well,  I  am 
glad  I  have  come  here.  I  see  things  as  they  are  and  as  they 
have  been.  I  am  learning  a  lesson  in  life  which  I  should  be 
long  in  learning  in  my  own  handsome  mansion  in  State  street." 
He  looked  at  the  different  persons  in  the  place.  "  All  of  them 
I  suppose  have  seen  better  days."  While  he  was  thus  re- 
flecting, a  hand  was  quietly  placed  upon  his  shoulder — it  was 
his  brother. 

He  could  not  speak.  Not  so,  however,  Tom  ;  he  took  a  seat 
and  commenced, 


VIGOR.  361 

"  Well,  Pitt,  how  goes  the  world  with  you  ?" 

"  So-so,  Tom  :  but  you  are  looking  better  than  I  expected. 
I  had  heard — but  no  matter.  You  are  looking  well." 

Torn  replied, 

"  Indeed  !  No  thanks  to  you,  though,  brother  Pitt.  I  should 
have  looked  bad  enough  had  I  been  dependent  on  you ;  but  I 
am  glad  to  see  you — heard  of  your  son's  marriage  ?"  asked 
Tom. 

Pitt  Grranville  winced  as  he  replied, 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  ^it,  and  it  pained  me  much  ;  it  is  a  very 
disgraceful  affair." 

"  Could  he  do  any  thing  else  ?  he  had  no  money,  and  I  sup- 
pose he  might  have  starved  if  that  girl  had  not  taken  him  up. 
It  is  to  him  I  owe  my  present  respectable  appearance  ;  had  I 
applied  to  you,  I  presume  I  might  have  starved,  eh  1"  said 
Tom. 

"  No,  Tom,  no  ;  I  came  here  to-day  on  purpose  to  afford 
you  relief  if  you  needed  it." 

"  Needed  it  ?     I  do  need  it — need  money.'' 

Tom  said  this,  for  he  had  become  heartless,  and  had  deter- 
mined to  adhere  to  his  plan  of  getting  gold  whenever  he  could 
•r-he  felt  that  something  had  shaken  or  softened  his  brother's 
feelings,  and  he  was  now  anxious  to  know  to  what  extent  he 
could  venture  a  financial  demand. 

"  How  much  do  you  want,  Tom,  to  make  you  comfortable  ?" 
asked  the  brother.  % 

"  All  that  you  can  spare.  I  want  a  home,  with  some  money 
in  my  pocket  besides  that  which  I  want  to  return  to  Miss  Nor- 
ris,  which  I  borrowed  of  her." 

Tom  lied  when  he  added  this  last. 

"  How  much  do  you  owe  Miss  Norris  ?"  asked  the  merchant 
anxiously  and  quickly. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  asking  such  a  foolish  question  ?  Let 
me  have  some  money,  if  you  intend  to  do  so,  and  I  will  then  go 
and  pay  her,"  said  Tom. 

The  elder  Grranville  took  out  his  pocket  book,  and  handed 
his  brother  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 

"  Take  that,  Tom.  Make  it  go  as  far  as  you  can.  Above 
all,  pay  Miss  Norris  what  you  owe  her.  When  you  need  more 
you  can  send  to  me  or  call  upon  me.  Find  some  respectable 
boarding-house,  and  get  settled  in  it,"  said  Pitt  Granville. 

Thomas  Granville  placed  the  money  in  his  pocket,  and  then 
his  mouth  was  opened.  He  informed  his  brother  that  he  had 
been  present  at  the  wedding  of  his  nephew  without  being 


362  VIGOR. 

aware  of  it,  until  the  clergyman  had  made  the  parties  man  and 
wife.  Pitt  Granville  groaned  in  agony  as  he  listened  to  the 
narrative.  Tom  did  not  spare  his  brother  from  reproaches.  He 
told  him  that  he  had  driven  Walter  from  his  home,  and  how 
severely  he  had  been  punished  for  it.  He  then  related  his 
own  hardships,  his  want  of  food,  of  sleep,  of  ordinary  comforts. 
But  he  added,  "  I  thank  you,  brother,  that  even  now  your 
heart  has  relented.  It  has  done  me  good  to  see  and  feel  some 
of  the  hardships  of  life,  and  if  I  live,  they  shall  not  have  hap- 
pened to  me  in  vain.  I  will  never  be  in  such  desperate  want 
again."  The  elder  Granville  listened,  But  could  say  nothing 
in  reply  but  to  beg  his  brother  to  come  and  see  him  at  his 
house  in  State  street  as  though  nothing  unpleasant  had  ever 
occurred.  He  shook  him  cordially  by  the  hand,  and  remon- 
strated kindly  at  his  not  having  a  more  respectable  haunt. 
When  he  had  gone  Tom  exclaimed,  "  Well,  I  am  in  luck. 
Who  would  have  dreamed  that  I,  a  poor,  devil  two  days  since, 
that  lacked  a  meal  of  victuals,  wanted  a  shilling  to  get  a  night's 
lodging,  charged  with  prigging  two  cents'  worth  of  pie,  should 
now  be  worth — let  me  count  my  fortune.  My  gold,  my  yellow 
slave — five  hundred  and  odd  dollars.  Well — 

" '  There  is  a  tide  in  the  pffairs  of  men, 

Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune.' 

"  It  is  ebb  with  me.  Maybe,  whatever  I  do  will  turn  out 
lucky.  What  are  my  lucky  numbers?  This  is  46.  I  came 
here,  met  my  neph«w,  got  clothes,  home  and  board.  Good — 46 
is  a  lucky  number.  Then  I  went  up  to  that  she  devil's  ia 
Bond  street,  No.  32.  I  came  away  with  a  pocket  full  of  money. 
Two  hundred  and  sixty  dollars  in  good  city  bills.  32  is  a 
lueky  number.  Now,  to-day  my  brother  Pitt  wakes  up,  and 
comes  from  a  sick  bed  in  No.  9  State  street  to  give  me  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dolhars.  No.  9  is  a  lucky  number.  9,  32, 
46.  If  I  could  get  a  ticket  with  those  three  numbers  upon  it, 
wouldn't  it  win  1  Of  course  it  would.  I'll  go  and  try.  If  I 
can't  get  a  ticket  with  those  numbers  upon  it  in  the  very  next 
lottery,  I  will  go  for  once  into  the  policy  business,  and  gig 
those  numbers  for  five  hundred  dollars.  '  Jemmy,  give  me  a 
mild  drink.  Make  it  merciful. 

"  '  The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained ; 
It  droppeth,  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 
Upon  the  place  beneath :  it  is  twice  blessed  ; 
It  blesseth  him  that  gives  and  him  that  takes.' 

"  James,  take  a  drink  with  me.  It  will  do  you  good.  I  am 
going  to  seek  for  money.  James,  when  you  are  poor,  never 


VIGOR.  353 

try  to  borrow.  No  one  will  lend  a  poor  man.  Get  ten  dol- 
lars, and  if  you  want  to  borrow  a  ten,  go  to  your  friend  and 
show  him  that  teu,  and  tell  him  you  have  to  make  up  twenty 
dollars.  He  will  lend  you  ten.  With  the  twenty  dollars  go  to 
a  second  friend,  show  him  the  twenty  dollars,  and  repeat  the 
story,  but  make  the  amount  you  have  to  make  up  fifty,  and 
borrow  thirty  dollars.  No.  2  will  lend  you  it.  With  a  fifty 
you  can  raise  up  fast.  Show  it  to  your  No.  3  friend.  '  Char- 
ley, I  have  to  lend  Bill  Astor's  nephew  a  hundred  this  morn- 
ing. Count  that  pile  and  rfee  how  much  I  lack,  and  then  lend 
it  to  me  like  a  good  fellow.'  Ah  !  Jemmy,  you  find  Charley 
counts  it,  and  lends  you  the  lacking  fifty  with  pleasure.  He 
would  have  seen  you  damned  before  he  would  have  lent  you 
fifty  cents,  if  he  thought  you  really  needed  it  and  had  not  got 
it.  Jemmy,  you  have  now  a  hundred.  Get  it  all  in  small 
bills,  except  one  of  fifty,  and  put  that  on  top.  Now  go  to  No. 
4  friend.  Tell  him  you  have  to  buy  a  draft  to  remit  three 
hundred  dollars  to  your  brother  in  Philadelphia,  and  only  need 
a  hundred.  '  Hand  over,  old  fellow.'  No.  4  is  not  going  to 
count  your  pile.  He  sees  the  fifty  dollar  bill  and  a  pile.  He 
lends  you  the  money  with*out  a  word.  You  have  now  got  two 
hundred.  Take  an  old  bank  book  and  go  to  some  friend  who  has 
plenty  of  money,  but  who  is  always  on  the  borrow.  Put  in  your 
two  hundred  dollars,  and  then  say  to  him  that  you  are  short  to 
make  up  a  thousand;  and  if  he  will  let  you  have  three  hundred 
dollars  he  will  oblige  you,  and  you  will  do  as  much  for  him 
next  week.  With  the  three  hundred  you*  can  travel.  Then  re- 
turn the  one  hundred  and  ninety  dollars  that  you  have  bor- 
rowed respectively  from  No.  1,  ten  dollars  ;  No.  2,  thirty  dol- 
lars ;  No.  3,  fifty  dollars  ;  and  No.  4,  one  hundred  dollars. 
Return  all  these  loans,  exhibiting  your  full  stock  as  you  do  so. 
With  the  three  hundred  dollars  in  hand,  you  can  borrow  three 
times  that  amount  from  your  Nos.  1  to  4  friends,  with  whom 
you  have  established  a  credit.  You  can  travel  on  this  credit. 
You  can  victimize  one  of  them  occasionally,  or  increase  your 
list  to  ten  or  twenty  friends,  of  whom,  at  any  time,  you  cun 
borrow  easily  three  hundreds,  but  of  whom  you  could  never 
borrow  three  cents  if  you  needed  it.  Jemmy,  I  am  going  to 
try  my  luek.  I  have  five  hundred  dollars.  I  will  double  my 
money  to-night.  I  am  in  luck.  See  if  it  is  not  so.  Your  very 
good  health."  Thomas  Granville  finished  his  glass  and  left 
No.  46  Centre  street. 

At  that,  time,  and  until  within  a  very  few  years,  there  was  a 
young  man  named  Clark  who  kept  an  exchange  office  on   tho 


364  VIGOR. 

north-west  corner  of  Duane  and  Chatham  streets,  where  Swee- 
ney's hotel  now  stands.  In  the  front  office  Mr.  Clark  did  an 
exchange  business.  In  the  rear,  partly  divided  by  a  low 
wooden  partition,  he  kept  and  sold  lottery  tickets.  There  was 
an  entrance  to  this  rear  office  from  Duane  street.  Into  this 
little  cubby  place  came  Tom  Granville.  He  asked  to  see  some 
tickets,  and  they  were  shown  him.  He  examined  wholes, 
halves,  quarters,  eighths,  in  the  Pokomoke  Lottery,  but  upon 
no  lieket  could  he  find  his  combination  of  9,  32,  and  46.  He 
was  then  shown  the  Delaware  Lottery.  Upon  a  half  ticket, 
true  enough,  he  found  9,  32,  46.  He  bought  the  half  ticket  at 
once,  and  paid  for  it  five  dollars,  aiid  left  the  place.  For  -luck, 
he  placed  his  half  ticket  among  his  roll  of  bills,  and  then  went 
up  to  the  "  Hotel  de  Paris,"  entered  his  room,  and  laid  down 
to  take  a  nap.  When  he  awoke  the  light  from  a  street  lamp 
was  streaming  into  his  room.  He  descended  to  take  a  cup  of 
coffee,  and  then  carelessly  approached  Madame  Vigne,  the 
landlady. 

"  Madam,  I  have  more  money  about  me  than  I  care  to  carry. 
Will  you  keep  it  for  me  ?"  asked  Tom. 

"  Certainly,  with  pleasure.  How  much  have  you  ?"  she 
asked. 

"  About  five  hundred  dollars,  I  believe," — and  Tom  handed 
her  the  roll. 

"  Five  hundred  !"  repeated  the  landlady,  who,  from  Tom's 
looks,  supposed  his  deposite  might  reach  about  twenty.  She 
counted  it,  and  it  overran  about  twenty  dollars. 

"  Give  me  that  for  spending  money,"  said  Tom,  and  he  re- 
ceived and  placed  it  in  his  pocket. 

Thomas  Granville  had  travelled.  He  knew  that  there  was 
no  safer  banker  in  the  world  than  a  careful,  prudent  French 
landlady.  His  money  he  knew  was  as  safe  in  Mrs.  Vigne's 
hands  as  in  those  of  thu  wealthiest  banker  of  New  York.  Tom 
drank  his  coffee. 

"  It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  played.  I  will  go  and  try 
my  luck  to-night," — and  so  saying  he  buttoned  up  his  over- 
coat and  went  out  into  Broadway.  He  soon  found  himself  in  a 
large  gambling  establishment  in  Barclay  street.  Tom  was  in 
luck.  When  he  entered  the  room  the  deal  was  almost  out. 
Without  looking  at  the  state  of  the  game,  he  put  all  his  money 
in  a  roll.  He  placed  it  upon  the  "  queen."  "  My  luck  is  in  a 
lady,"  was  his  only  observation.  The  queen  won.  The  amount 
was  counted  and  paid.  Tom  left  it  lyipg  on  the  queen.  The 
queen  won  aguin.  The  su:n  was  paid. 


VIGOR.  3C5 

"  There  is  another  '  queen  '  in  the  box  jet,"  said  some  one. 

"Then  I  will  leave  it  all  upon  my  friend  the  queen,"  said 
Tom,  dryly.  The  queen  won  a  third  time,  and  Tom  placed  in 
his  pocket  a  hundred  and  sixty  dollars,  adding,  "  Now  I  will 
get  me  some  supper."  He  drank  sparingly  of  a  bottle  of  wine, 
tasted  a  choice  bit  of  game,  and  returned  to  the  taMe,  and 
bought  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  red  chips.  Then  he 
played  cautiously,  and  only  one  or  two,  until  of  some  particu- 
lar card,  three  had  been  dealt  out,  and  one  remained  in  the 
box.  Then  Tom  played  fifty  dollars  on  a  "  bet."  He  won  un- 
til he  had  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  bet  on  different  cards. 
When  the  deal  was  over,  he  was  a  winner  of  over  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars.  He  had  sixty  in  his  pocket.  He  re- 
turned to  the  hotel,  and  handing  another  roll  to  Madame  Vigne, 
he  said,  "  Here,  madam,  add  this  to  my  sum  in  your  hands." 
She  took  the  money,  but  made  no  comment,  -and  Turn  joined 
old  Mr.  Gemmel  in  a  game  of  dominoes.  He  was  perfectly 
self-possessed — not  elated — and  when  midnight  came  went 
quietly  to  bed. 

Towards  evening  the  next  day  he  went  to  Clark's  exchange 
office.  ,  Mr.  Clark  recognized  him. 

"  You  had  9,  32  and  40 — half  ticket  in  the  Delaware,  had 
you  not  ?"  he  asked. 

"  1  believe  I  have  that  ticket,"  replied  Tom. 

"  Allow  me  to  congratulate  you,  sir,"  said  the  broker.  "  It 
has  drawn  two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars.  The  half  is  one 
thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  gross.  Discount  off 
will  be  one  thousand  and  thirty-one  dollars  and  twenty-five 
cents.  Call  here  to-morrow,  and  I  will  cash  the  prize  and  pay 
you  one  thousand  and  thirty-one  dollars  and  twenty-five  cents." 

Thomas  Granville  went  around  to  46  Centre  street.  Jemmy 
asked  him  what  his  luck  had  been.  "  I  made  over  a  thousand, 
Jemmy," — and  he  told  him  the  particulars.  Tom  did  not 
drink  as  freely  as  usual.  The  next  day  he  received  the  money 
from  the  ticket.  He  went  to  Madame  Vigne,  showed  it  to  her, 
and  received  the  sum  she  had  on  deposit,  amounting  to  over 
a  thousand  dollars.  Then  Tom  took  two  thousand  dollars  and 
went  down  to  the  savings  bank  and  deposited  it  to  his  own 
credit  and  received  a  bank  book. 


' 
366  VIGOR. 


CHAPTER    LIX. 

Marion  Monrk  and  the  Harpers— Publishes  a  Book— Virgil  Maxcy  and 
.  John  C.  Calhoun — James  Harpe.r  and  the  Ttmp'Tunce  Societies  —  Tom 
Flynn  as  a  Lecturer — Mr.  Monck  writ's  him  a.  Lei-tare  on  Temperancf — Its 
deHvtry  at  the  Tabernacle — Ton  a  Dilinqufnl  —The  Dinn  r  ordered  by  Mr. 
Flynn  and  pjidfor  by  Mr.  Munclc—End<if  Thomas  Flynn,  Comedian,  »'«» 
the  Alnithou.se. 

MARION  MONCK  felt  quite  elated  with  the  first  money  he 
earned  with  his  pen,  and  it  was  hut  the  commencement  of  ano- 
ther task.  Marion  had  a  friend  in  Maryland  whose  name  was 
Virgil  Maxcy.  This  gentleman  was  a  statesman  and  a  scholar. 
His  melancholy  fate  a  few  years  after  the  date  of  this  chapter 
is  fresh  in  the  memory  of  thousands.  He  was  an  invited  guest 
on  board  the  steamship  Princeton,  when  a  cannon  burst,  and 
killed  Mr.  Maxcy  and  several  others. 

This  gentleman  had  prepared  a  work  for  the  press.  It  was 
the  life  of  a  friend — the  great  southern  statesman,  Calhoun  ; 
and  he  wrote  to  Marion  Monck,  requesting  him  to  publish  it  at 
the  establishment  of  Harper  &  Brothers,  and  to  superintend 
the  publication.  Marion  accepted  the  trust,  and  forthwith 
made  an  agreement  with  the  Harpers  to  publish  this  Life  at  a 
stipulated  price,  the  copyright  to  belong  to  Marion  Monck. 
This  was  the  wish  of  Mr.  Maxcy,  and  it  was  his  desire  that  the 
profits  of  the  publication  should  accrue  to  Marion,  for  the 
trouble  it  would  occasion  him  to  attend  to  the  business,  read 
the  proofs,  etc. 

Not  long  after  he  commenced  the  work,  he  received  a  pack- 
age of  speeches  from  Mr.  Calhoun  himself,  with  a  request  that 
he  would  also  superintend  the  publication  of  a  volume  of 
speeches.  This  Marion  readily  undertook  ;  and  in  the  per- 
formance of  the  duties,  it  required  him  to  be  a  frequent,  in 
fact  an  almost  daily  visitor  at  the  establishment  of  the  Messrs. 
Harpers.  One  afternoon,  as  he  was  about  to  leave  for  his 
boarding-house,  he  was  stopped  by  one  of  the  brothers. 

"  Have  you  an  engagement  to-night  ?"  he  asked 

It  was  James  Harper. 

"  None  in  particular,"  was  the  reply.  "  Why  do  you  ask 
me?"  • 


VIGOR.  367 

"  Because  if  you  have  not,  I  should  like  to  have  you  spend 
the  evening  with  me,"  said  James  Harper. 

"  Nothing  that  3ro-.i  could  propose  would  give  me  greater 
pleasure,"  replied  Marion. 

"Then  come  with  me,  for  I  am  going  home,"  said  Mr.  Harper. 

The  two  started  for  Mr.  Harper's  residence,  which  was  at  no 
great  distance  from  the  publishing  building.  He  then  resided 
in  Rose  street,  next  door  to  the  Quaker  Church.  Marion  knew 
the  house  well,  for  in  the  abolition  riots,  some  years  before,  he 
had  seen  the  mob  enter  that  identical  two  story  brick  house, 
then  occupied  by  Lewis  Tappan,  and  plunder  it  of  its  furniture, 
which  they  burned  in  the  street  before  the  door.  When  they 
were  insjgle  the  house,  Mr.  Harper  ordered  tea,  remarking  that 
Mrs.  Harper  would  not  be  present,  as  she  was  very  ill — in 
fact,  dangerously  so.  She  died  not  many  days  after.  After 
tea  was  finished,  Mr.  Harper  remarked, 

"  A  carriage  will  bo  here  presently,  to  take  me  where  I  can 
fulfil  an  engagement.  I  want  you  to  go  with  me." 

The  carriage  came'.  Both  entered  it,  and  continued  talking 
until  it  stopped  before  the  doors  of  a  church  in  Forsyth  street. 

"  We  get  out  hoiv,?'  said  James  Harper.     "  Follow  me." 

Marion  did  so,  into  the  church,  up  to  the  pulpit.  Mr.  Har- 
per opened  a  pew  dour  near  the  altar,  and  when  Marion  had 
passed  in  and  taken  a  seat,  he  shut  the  door  and  passed  to  the 
pulpit,  and  took  the  principal  seat.  Marion  then  noticed  that 
the  church  was  crowded  with  people,  called  together  for  some 
sort  of  purpose,  and  that  Mr.  Harper  was  to  be  the  chairman 
of  the  meeting. 

The  exercises  soon  commenced,  and  then  Marion  discovered 
that  it  was  the  anniversary  of  a  Temperance  Society.  Prayer 
was  made,  a  hymn  was  sung,  then  a  clergyman  made  a  speech, 
another  hymn,  another  address  and  another  hymn.  Then  there 
was  a  pause.  The  chairman  then  arose,  and  with  great  seri- 
ousness announced  that  the  Rev.  Doctor  Tvng  was  expected  to 
make  an  address  that  evening,  and  added,  ';  But  illness  in  his 
family  will  prevent  "him.  This  would  be  a  great  disappoint- 
ment under  ordinary  circumstances,  but  1  am  happy  to  inform 
the  meeting,  that  I  have  secured  the  services  of  a  young  gen- 
tlemau,  who  1  am  sure  will  favor  us  with  a  nhort  address,  that 
can  fill  up  the  gap  caused  by  the  non-appearance  of  Dr.  Tyng. 
He  is  extremely  clever,  and  has  written  a  book  that  my  firm 
have  published.  I  am  not  aware  that  he  has  ever  joined  any 
temperance  society — very  likely  he  may  do  so  to-night.  Allow 
ine  to  introduce  to  this  audience  Marion  Monck." 


368  VIGOR. 

Marion  had  followed  Mr.  Harper's  language,  wondering  what 
he  was  driving  at ;  but  when  he  pounced  down  upon  him  by 
name,  and  pointed  at  the  scat  where  he  was  sitting,  he  was 
completely  thunderstruck.  Had  the  steeple  tumbled  in  upon 
the  crowd,  it  would  not  have  astonished  him  half  so  much. 
He  was  so  vexed  with  James  Harper,  that  it  gave  him  the  con- 
fidence necessary  to  make  an  address,  and  he  did  astonish  that 
crowd  for  half  an  hour.  He  was  really  eloquent  upon  the  tem- 
perance topic,  and  his  address  was  received  with  great  ap- 
plause. The  services  were  soon  after  over,  and  he  again  got 
into  the  carriage  with  James  Harper,  intending  to  blow  him  up 
for  placing  him  in  such  a  false  position.  It  was  of  no  use.  Mr. 
Harper  laughed  at  him,  and  when  they  parted  that  night,  Ma- 
rion observed,  "  Have  a  care,  Mr.  Harper ;  this  is  the  last  time 
you  will  ever  bring  me  in  for  a  temperance  address." 

The  next  day,  when  Marion  made  his  appearance  in  Cliff 
street,  the  other  brothers  had  a  hearty  laugh  at  his  expense, 
and  at  the  "  sell  "  so  successfully  made  by  "  Brother  James." 
Marion  received  it  all  in  good  part,  and  enjoyed  the  joke  as 
well  as  any  of  them. 

The  Harpers  were  always  interested  in  the  Temperance  re- 
formation. They  upheld  the  "  Washingtonian  Parent  Society  " 
in  the  good  old  times,  when  that  Society  counted  upon  its 
books  the  names  of  over  ten  thousand  reformed  drunkards,  and 
were  not  sparing  in  their  aid  to  the  Society  and  its  various 
branches,  or  to  individual  members. 

When  the  excitement  that  this  Society  caused,  and  which 
would  crowd  their  weekly  meetings  with  two  and  three  thou- 
sand people,  had  died  away,  it  was  followed  and  replaced  by  a 
new  order  of  things,  called  the  Sons  of  Temperance.  Then 
the  Daughters  of  Temperance.  In  these  movements  the  Har» 
pers  engaged  earnestly,  and  none  more  so  than  Brother  James. 
He  was  active  in  all  of  them,  and  presided  frequently  at  the 
annual  meetings  of  these  societies.  Then  came  the  Rechab- 
ites.  In  the  latter  James  Harper  was  a  principal  leader. 

To  his  credit  be  it  said,  he  was  extremely  liberal  to  those 
who  were  without  means,  but  who  were  willing  to  aid  in  the 
Temperance  movement.  Gough,  Wallace,  and  many  others 
were  indebted  for  means  to  be  useful  to  Mr.  Harper.  When 
Brother  James  found  a  person  in  any  particular  profession  who 
was  likely  to  be  useful  in  making  converts  from  that  profes- 
sion, he  encouraged  him  to  become  a  speaker  and  leader  in  the 
great  Temperance  movement. 

Not  long  after  the    appearance   of  Marion   Monck   in  the 


VIGOR.  369 

Chrystie  street  church,  he  was  engaged  in  reading  some  proofs 
at  his  own  room,  when  a  visitor  was  announced.  He  was 
shown  up.  This  visitor  was  a  stout,  thick-set,  full-faced  indi- 
vidual, and  he  brought  a  no.te  from  Mr.  James  Harper,  intro- 
ducing him  to  Marion  Monek. 

"  Sit  down,  sir,''  said  Marion. 

"  Certainly — with  pleasure.  That  note  is  from  Mr.  Harper 
— my  very  particular  friend,  James  Harper.  He  is  to  assist 
me  in  giving  a  lecture  at  the  Tabernacle,  and  he  told  me  to 
come  and  see  you,"  said  the  fussy  individual. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  aid  you  in  the  matter,"  replied 
Marion. 

"  Indeed,  but  I  do.  I  told  Mrs.  Flynn  this  morning,  and 
she  is  extremely  well  aware  of  the  fact,  that  I  could  and  should 
deliver  an  extremely  interesting  lecture,  if  I  had  it  written 
for  me.  There  is  money  to  be  made  in  it.  Thousands,  sir, 
will  crowd  to  hear  Tom  Flynn  deliver  a  lecture  at  the  Tubor- 
nacle.  The  house  will  be  a  perfect  jam,  sir.  Mr.  Harper  ad- 
vances the  money.  I  shall  be  a  great  card,  sir — an  immense 
card  to  the  cause  of  Temperance,"  said  Mr.  Flynn. 

"  How  long  siuce  you  joined  the  movement  ?"  inquired 
Marion. 

"  Over  a  week,  sir — nearly  two.  Now,  sir,  I  am  an  actor. 
I  am  not  good  at  an  off-hand  speech  or  lecture,  unless  I  have 
it  all  pat  beforehand.  Now  you  write  out  the  lecture  for  me — 
that's  a  dear  good  fellow.  Mr.  Harper  said  you  were  just  the 
chap  to  do  it,  and  i  know  you  will.  I  can  learn  it  by  heart  in 
a  very  short  time  after  it  is  written — that  is  in  my  line.  I 
shall  reform  the  whole  theatrical  profession — make  em  all  join. 
My  lecture  will  be  perfectly  overwhelming.  When  will  you 
go  to  work  ?  I  want  it  doue  at  once,"  said  Flynn. 

Marion  took  a  good  look  at  his  customer.  There  was  some- 
thing so  jolly  about  Torn  Flynn,  that  no  one  could  help  admir- 
ing him,  until  they  had  become  well  acquainted  with  the  man. 
Then  admiration  generally  ceased. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Flynn,  suppose  I  write  this  lecture.  You  will 
make  money  by  it.  What  am  I  to  get  for  writing  it  ?"  asked 
Marion. 

"  0,  anything  you  please — we  won't  stand  upon  trifles. 
Money  to  be  paid  over  after  the  lecture,"  said  Tom  Flynn. 

"  I  would  like  to  have  it  understood  now  how  much  I  am  to 
get.  Will  twenty  dollars  be  too  much  ?" 

"  Not  half  enough,  my  dear  boy.  It  will  be  a  magnificent 
hit.  I'll  bring  down  the  house.  Bless  your  heart  !  I  shall 

1C* 


370  VIGOR. 

want  you  to  write  fifty — a  hundred  lectures.  Harper  says  I 
must  visit  every  city  in  the  United  States,  and  deliver  my  lec- 
tures, and  then  go  to  Europe.  Star  it  on  Temperance  all 
through  England,  Ireland,  Scotland  and  Wales.  I  will  keep 
you  with  me,  my  boy — eh  ?  How  do  you  like  that  ?" 

Marion  was  in  a  hearty  good  humor  with  the  illustrious  Tom, 
and  agreed  to  go  at  once  into  the  matter.  To  do  this,  it  was 
necessary  that  he  should  go  to  Tom's  apartments.  These,  Tom 
said,  were  at  the  Shakespeare  Hotel,  corner  of  Duane  and  Wil- 
liam street.  Accompanied  by  Marion,  Tom  wended  his  way 
from  Fulton  street  to  the  Shakespeare.  This  was  kept  at  that 
time  by  a  man  named  Pierrers,  now  steward  of  the  St.  Nicholas 
Hotel.  Tom  Flynn's  apartment  was  on  the  fourth  floor  ;  and 
into  his  room,  for  he  had  but  one,  he  ushered  Marion  Monck. 
There  was  a  lady  seated  there,  and  the  new  comer  was  intro- 
duced with  much  ceremony  to  the  celebrated  and  extremely 
clever  Mrs.  Flynn. 

She  received  Marion  with  much  amiability,  and  listened  to 
her  husband's  extravagant  ideas  of  his  success  in  temperance 
matters  with  a  smile  of  incredulity.  At  that  time  Mrs.  Flynn 
was  a  woman  of  great  beauty,  and  her  success  as  an  actress 
had  been  long  gained.  Tom  Flynn  was  doing  nothing  at  all, 
and  the  means  of  support  were  earned  by  Mrs.  Flynn  at  the 
theatre  in  Chatham  street. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Marion  could  get  Tom  down  to 
common  affairs,  or  the  practical  business  in  hand.  He  had  no 
more  idea  of  a  temperance  lecture,  than  he  had  of  Mahomet  s 
Koran  ;  and  would  relate  theatrical  anecdotes,  and  his  own  ex- 
perience, that  had  no  more  connection  with  temperance  than 
with  algebra  ;  and  Marion,  with  a  powerful  imagination,  could 
not  torture  or  twist  any  of  Tom's  stories  into  the  skeleton 
ideas  for  a  lecture.  At  last  he  gave  up  in  despair,  and  went 
to  his  room.  There  the  thought  crossed  him  to  write  a  lecture 
without  the  slightest  reference  to  Tom  Flynn.  He  did  so.  All 
the  experience  in  it,  and  thrilling  scenes,  were  purely  imagi- 
native— none  of  Tom's,  at  least.  When  it  was  finished,  Ma- 
rion carried  the  lecture  to  Tom's  quarters  at  the  Shakespeare. 
It  was  read  in  presence  of  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tom  Flynn.  The 
latter  approved  it,  and  flattered  Marion  by  telling  him  that  his 
performance  was  a  most  creditable  one.  Tom  undertook  to 
learn  it  at  once. 

Some  days  passed,  and  the  eventful  night  came,  when  the 
Tabernacle  doors  were  opened  to  admit  the  celebrated  Thomas 
Flynn  to  deliver  a  temperance  lecture — "  tickets  twenty-five 


VIGOR.  371 

cents."  There  teas  a  crowd,  and  notwithstanding  an  enormous 
quantity  of  "  dead-heads,"  the  lecture  was  a  money-making 
affair.  Tom  hired  some  person  to  act  as  treasurer,  and  when 
the  lecture  was  finished,  he  grabbed  the  proceeds. 

Marion  Monck  went  into  the  gallery  to  hear  his  own  original 
lecture  delivered.  It  certainly  made  a  sensation,  and  was 
cheered  "tremendously.  There  was  no  humbug  about  that. 
Marion  felt  convinced  of  one  thing.  The  lecture  had  some 
points  in  it  that  told  well  on  an  audience.  Tom  delivered  ifc 
well.  He  had  learned  it  by  heart,  as  though  it  had  been  a  part 
of  a  farce,  and  it  appeared  to  the  audience  as  though  it  was 
extemporized.  So  far  so  good, 

Marion  tried  to  get  a  sight  of  Tom  Flynn  after  the  lecture 
was  delivered,  but  Thomas,  with  seventy  or  eighty  dollars  in 
his  pocket,  was  not  to  be  seen.  The  next  day  the  chase  con- 
tinued, and  he  found  the  lecturer  about  three  o'clock  in  a 
drinking  saloon.  Thomas  was  not  exactly  sober,  nor  was  he 
very  drunk.  It  was  a  sort  of  maudlin  medium. 

"  My  dear  boy,  where  have  you  kept  yourself  ?  I  have  been 
hunting  for  you  all  day.  Ask  Thomas  Shortland  if  I  have  not. 
(Tome  now,  let  us  go  and  have  a  nice,  quiet,  old-fashioned  din- 
ner. I  have  ordered  one  for  us  both,  and  let  us  go  to  the  place 
at  once,"  said  Tom  Flynn,  and  he  appeared  extremely  anxious 
to  get  to  the  dinner.  It  was  an  enormous  fib,  but  never"  mind 
that.  The  author  and  the  actor  wended  their  way  over  into  a 
33roadway  restaurant.  The  proprietor  placed  them  in  a  small 
room  by  themselves.  When  they  were  fairly  seated,  and  the 
dinner  had  been  ordered,  Mr.  Monck  boned  Tom  about  the 
twenty  dollars. 

"Bless  your  heart,  my  dear  boy,  I- had  to  payout  every 
cent.  You  have  no  idea  what  a  time  I  have  had  !  Wasn't  it 
a  capital  house  ?  How  they  did  cheer  !  My  fortune  is  made. 
I've  struck  a  vein.  Harper  says  he  never  saw  anything  like 
it.  Mr.  Harper  advanced  the  rent  of  the  building,  but  I  had 
so  many  demands  made  upon  me  for  money  to-day,  that  I  can- 
not refund  him  his  advance.'  It  is  a  hard  case,  ain't  it  ?  But 
those  Harpers  are  rich — he  won't  feel  it.  When  will  you  com- 
mence another  lecture  for  me,  Mr.  Monck  1"  said  Tom. 

Marion  Monck  was  really  indignant ;  and  he  replied  angrily, 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Mr.  Fiynn,  I  don't   consider  this  fair 

treatmeirt.     I  wrote  your   lecture   for  you.     You   have  made 

money,  and  I  expected  to  have  received  the  twenty  dollars  at 

'  once." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,  my  boy.     I  don't  blame  you — not 


372  VIGOR. 

a  bit  of  it.  I'd  feel  just  the  same,  if  a  man  had  used  me  as 
shabbily  as  I  have  you.  I  know  it  is  outrageous.  You  ought 
to  have  had  the  money.  But  what  am  I  to  do  ?  You  see  liow 
I  am  placed.  Dead  broke — but  never  mind,  we  will  have  a 
good  dinner,  any  how.  I  expect  it  will  be  a  magnificent  din- 
ner. -Do  you  know  I  like  good  dinners  ?  What  do  you  say  to 
a  bottle  of  Champagne,  eh  ?" 

"  I  am  agreed,"  replied  Marion  ;  "  but  what  would  your 
temperance  friends  say  if  they  were  to  drop  in  upon  you — 
James  Harper,  for  instance  ?" 

"  0,  he  be  blamed.  It  will  not  do  for  me  to  break  off  so 
sudden  from  all  stimulants.  It  must  be  done  by  degrees," 
replied  the  actor. 

The  wine  was  ordered — not  one  bottle  but  two  was  placed 
upon  the  table.  A  splendid  dinner  was  served  up,  for  Tom 
Flynn  knew  how  to  order  a  good  dinner.  It  was  well  cooked. 
It  was  a  dinner  that  any  gentleman  in  the  land  might  have  been 
proud  to  have  partaken  of.  Under  its  genial  influence  Marion 
became  reconciled  to  the  disappointment  connected  with  the 
twenty  dollars.  Tom  promised  faithfully  that  he  should  have 
it  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours.  Still  Marion  refused  to 
write  a  second  lecture  until  he  received  pay  for  number  one, 
and  he  added,  "  Flynn,  you  can  make  money  as  a  temperance 
lecturer,  if  you  will  deliver  twenty  lectures  written  by  me,  and 
do  as  you  have  done  this  one,  by  each  new  one.  Learn  it  by 
heart.  By  the  time  you  have  committed  twenty  lectures  to 
heart  and  can  deliver  one  on  cull,  you  can  then  practice  on  all, 
and  really  you  will  have  matter  enough  to  deliver  an  extempore 
lecture  apparently,  merely  throwing  in  a  few  local  facts  or 
matters  whenever  you-deliver  a  lecture  at  a  new  place.  You 
will  succeed,  and  you  will  be  a  popular  lecturer,  but  you  must 
pay  me  honest,  every  time  I  write  you  a  lecture.  It  was  very 
wrong  in  you  to  '  do '  Mr.  Harper  out  of  the  Tabernacle  rent," 
said  Marion. 

"  It  was  bad — very  bad — a  d shamo.     But  it   can't  be 

helped  now,  and  I  dare  say  Mr.  Harper  won't  mind  it.  What 
a  glorious  dinner  we  have  made,  eh  ?  Is  there  any  thing  else 
you  will  have  ?  Order  whatever  you  have  a  fancy  for — wines, 

cigars,  coffee — d the  expense.     One  may  as  well  be  in  for 

a  sheep  as  a  lamb,"  said  Tom. 

Here  the  landlord  came  in,  and  was  very  polite £o  Marion. 
He  asked  if  there  was  any  thing  else  he  could  put  upon  the 
table.  "  Nothing  more,"  was  the  joint  reply.  When  the- 
proprietor  of  the  restaurant  passed  out  from  the  little  room 


VIGOR.  373 

i 

where  the  author  and  actor  had  dined,  Tom  Flynn  followed 
him,  and,  after  an  absence  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  (during 
which  time  Marion  was  extremely  anxious,  for  he  had  no  mon- 
ey, and  he  feared  Tom  had  departed,  leaving  him  in  a  strange 
place  to  foot  the  bill),  he  returned  rubbing  his  hands  in  great 
glee,  and  exclaimed,  "  Lord  love  your  soul,  my  boy.  It  is  all 
right.  I  told  him  who  you  were,  and  he  said  you  could  pay 
the  bill  whenever  it  suited  your  convenience.  It  takes  me, 
don't  it  ?" 

Marion  was  indignant,  and  at  first  could  not  comprehend 
what  Tom  Flynn  was  driving  at.  "I!  Satisfied  with  me  ? 
What  the  devil  have  I  got  to  do  with  it  ?  It  is  your  dinner. 
You  ordered  it,"  said  Marion. 

"  That  ia  true.  But  keep  perfectly  calm — what  difference 
does  it  make  ?  I  have  no  money — not  a  dollar.  The  bill  is 
twelve  dollars  twenty-five  cents.  He  wouldn't  trust  me  twelve 
cents.  I  have  satisfied  him  that  you  are  as  good  as  the  Bank 
of  France  ;  that  James  Harper,  or  all  the  Harpers,  would  be 
responsible  for  fifty  dinners  ;  and  that  you  were  short  to-day 
for  a  wonder,  but  would  call  back  to-morrow  and  order  a  dozen 
dinners.  He  is  perfectly  satisfied,  and  will  let  us  go  out  without 
the  money.  Don't  be  afraid, "continued  Tom  Flynn, consolingly. 

"  Hang  your  infernal  impudence  !    You  told  him  the  Harpers 

would  pay  my  bill  !    that  I  was  short — that — that 0.   tho 

devil !  You  have  played  Ned  with  me.  It  is  bad  enough  to 
stick  me  for  the  lecture,  but  then  to  stick  me  for  a  dinner 
that  I  never  ordered,  and  tell  a  parcel  of  lies  in  order  to  induce 
the  proprietor  not  to  have  us  arrested,  or  kick  us  out  of  doors, 
is  too  bad.  Tom  Flynn,  I  will  never  forgive  you — never," 
said  Marion. 

"  Nonsense,  my  boy.  We  are  all  right.  I've  fixed  it  with 
the  proprietor.  Says  you  can  pay  it  any  time  you  like.  Wh;it 
else  can  I  do  ?"  asked  Tom. 

"  Else  can  you  do  ?  You  had  no  business  to  come  here,  or 
induce  me  to  come  here,  unless  you  could  pay  for  what  you 
ordered.  But  I  have  done  with  you — mark  that !"  M:irion 
indignantly  left  the  room,  and  went  to  the  proprietor  and  told 
him  how  he  had  been  stuck  for  the  dinner.  The  landlord 
enjoyed  the  joke,  and  the  next  day  Marion  paid  the  bill. 

To  return  to  Tom  Flynn.  He  delivered  his  lecture  several 
times. — once  in  Jersey  City.  He  did  well,  but  he  could  not 
keep  from  drink.  It  eventually  fetclicd  him,  as  it  has  millions 
of  good  fellows,  and  Thomas  Flynu  died  in  the  Almshouse  of 
New  York  city. 


374  VIGOR. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

R  formation  of  Thomas  Granvillt—  The  Hotel  de  Paris— The  Domino  Cl<ib 
— Bruce — Trinity  C hurch  Antedate — The.  Beautiful  French  Girl  Clotilda 
—  Tom's  Second  Marriage— His  Death  at  the  Stattn  Island  Small  Pox 
ILspital. 

ALAS,  alas  !  poor  Tom  Granville  !  gifted  with  genius,  with 
kindness  of  heart,  with  every  thing  which  could  make  thee  a 
worthy  member  of  society,  what  a  melancholy  fate  was  thine  ! 
Why  was  this  ?  He  had  thoroughly  reformed,  and  changed 
his  habits  from  being  a  careless  spendthrift  into  becoming  a 
miser,  and  he  counted  every  cent  he  expended,  and  incurred 
no  outlay  that  he  could  do  without. 

In  a  former  Chapter  we  have  related  the  manner  in  which 
he  had  accumulated  the  sum  of  two  thousand  dollars.  This 
was  deposited  in  the  Savings  Bank,  and  the  bank-book,  as  evi- 
dence of  its  being  his  property,  he  carried  about  with  him  at 
all  times,  and  not  a  day  passed  that  he  did  not  take  it  out  and 
gaze  earnestly  at  the  items  inside  of  it.  He  dressed  neatly, 
and  continued  to  board  at  the  '  Hotel  de  Paris,'  in  Broadway. 
Unexceptionable  in  his  conduct,  he  foreswore  houses  of  ill- 
fame,  gambling,  and  excessive  drinking  ;  he  had  his  bottle  of 
claret  daily  at  dinner,  and  drank  sparingly  even  of  that.  As 
he  dined  with  his  brother  every  Sunday,  during  the  week  he 
would  occasionally  call  in  State  street  and  invite  his  niece  to 
promenade  with  him  upon  the  Battery.  If  she  did  not  go  her- 
self, she  permitted  one  of  her  children,  for  she  had  now  three 
fine  boys  to  go  with  '  Uncle  Torn.'  Such  conduct  won  upon 
Pitt  Granville,  and  he  no  longer  hesitated  about  giving  Toui 
money,  nor  even  wait  to  be  asked,  but  would  frequently  say, 

"  Wei)  Tom,  how  do  you  fight  your  men  ?  Have  you  any 
ammunition  left  ?" 

Tom  never  replied  in  the  affirmative  ;  but  always  laughed 
and  plead  poverty. 

"  I  am  about  broke,  but  luckily  my  expenses  are  not  much." 

To  such  a  hint  there  was  but  one  reply — 

"  Take  this,  Tom  ;  perhaps  you  can  spend  it,"  and  Tom 
would  get  a  twenty  or  fifty  dollar  bill.  After  such  financial 


VIGOR.  375 

successes,  Tom  would  go  to  his  hotel,  and  make  a  special  de- 
posite  with  his  landlady,  keeping  in  his  own  pocket  a  few  shil- 
lings for  his  wants. 

Thomas  Granville  visited  almost  every  place  of  amusement, 
but  he  was  on  the  free  list,  and  did  so  without  expense.  He 
neither  courted  nor  avoided  the  society  of  those  with  whom  he 
had  been  formerly  intimate  in  his  prosperous  days,  and  con- 
sequently they  once  more  sought  his  society — for  he  dressed 
with  care  and  taste,  and  his  social  habits  made  him  always  an 
agreeable  companion.  But  on  such  occasions  he  never  spent 
a  fraction  upon  them  ;  if  he  dined  or  drank  with  them,  it  was 
at  their  expense,  not  his  own. 

After  being  present  at  the  wedding  of  his  nephew  with 
Jliss  Norris,  he  avoided  them  as  he  would  poison.  He  howev- 
er changed  his  deportment  toward  Marion  Monck — he  not  only 
treated  him  kindly,  but  sought  his  society,  and  many  an  hour 
the  two  passed  together  in  playing  dominoes  at  the  '  Hotel  de 
Paris,'  where  Tom  originated  a  Dominoe  Club.  Besides  them- 
selves, there  were  men  of  some  note  that  belonged  to  that  club. 
Mr.  Bruce,  for  many  years  the  confidential  clerk  of  old  John 
Jacob  Astor,  and  after  his  death  holding  the  same  position 
with  his  son,  William  B.,  was  of  this  club. 

Mr.  Bruce  was  a  character  in  his  way.  No  man  knew  New 
York  for  forty  years  better  than  he  did — he  knew  every  house 
and  building  below  Houston  street,  and  was  a  man  who  solved 
a  difficulty  in  an  unequalled  manner.  Upon  one  very  extra- 
ordinary emergency,  Mr.  Bruce  was  called  upon  by  a  vestry- 
man of  Trinity  Church. 

"  Bruce,  the  Corporation  intend  to  open  Pine  street  through 
to  Albany  street,  and  it  will  cut  through  our  graveyard  ;  what 
can  be  done  to  prevent  it  ?  Suggest  something." 

Mr.  Bruce  thought  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  replied, 

"  Trinity  is  rich,  and  don't  mind  spending  money.  Go  to 
work  at  once  and  put  up  in  the  graveyard  opposite  Pine  street 
where  the  proposed  cut  will  go  through,  a  costly  monument  to 
the  memory  of  the  American  Patriots  who  fell  or  died  at  Wall- 
about  Bay.  Give  out  that  the  bones  of  these  Revolutionary 
heroes  were  buried  under  the  monument.  Do  that,  and  you 
will  have  no  further  bother.  The  Corporation  are  not  bold 
enough  to  dig  up  the  bones  of  Revolutionary  heroes." 

The  vestrymen  of  old  Trinity  saw  the  wisdom  of  the  hint. — 
At  their  next  meeting  the  monument  was  decided  upon,  and 
workmen  commenced  their  labors  at  the  head  of  Pine  street. 
Bruce  was  right — there  stands  the  monument,  and  no  street 


376  VIGOR. 

has  yet  disturbed  it,  or  the  bones  of  the  Wallabout  heroes, 
which  probably  repose  some  four  miles  off. 

But  to  return  to  Mr.  Bruce.  He  was  posted  upon  every 
subject,  and  to  an  editor  of  a  daily  paper  would  have  made  a 
valuable  assistant  as  a  suggestive  editor. 

Another  member  of  this  club  was  Aaron  Turner,  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  men  in  New  York.  He  was  nicknamed  "  the 
Doctor,"  from  his  unvarying  attention  to  any  of  his  friends  who 
became  sick.  One  of  the  club  was  once  confined  to  his  room 
for  thirty  days — the  "  Doc"  never  left  him.  When  the  regular 
physician  had  given  the  patient  over  to  death,  Doctor  Turner 
interfered,  and  by  feeding  the  dying  man  upon  rare,  half-raw 
beefsteak  and  old  port  wine,  brought  him  around  again,  and  he 
is  still  a  member  of  the  Dominoe  Club. 

The  Doctor  had  an  income  of  two  thousand  dollars  a  year. 
Half  he  spent  on  himself,  and  religiously  devoted  the  other 
half  to  the  relief  of  suffering  humanit}'.  No  man  knows  how 
the  Doctor  lives,  nor  where  he  lives,  and  no  man  ever  saw  him 
do  any  regular  business — and  yet  he  is  a  master  of  all  trades 
and  all  sciences.  He  can  paint  a  picture,  or  he  can  set  up 
thirty  thousand  ems  of  type  a  week  with  ease.  He  once  navi- 
gated a  schooner  from  Cbagres  to  New  York,  and  not  many 
months  afterwards,  when  a  passenger  on  the  Erie  railroad,  and 
the  engineer  and  fireman  were  both  killed,  he  mounted  the  en- 
gine and  ran  her  and  the  train  eighteen  miles  to  Port  Jervis. 

Old  James  Geinmel,  the  rich  watchmaker  in  Broadway,  was 
a  member  of  the  club  for  many  years.  He  is  dead  now,  and 
has  gone  to  a  better  world,  where  dominoes  are  not  permitted. 
There  were  others  of  the  Dominoe  Club.  Some  are  now  living, 
and  some  are  dead,  but  we  omit  mention  of  the  former  because 
they  are  cashiers  in  bank  or  Judges  upon  the  bench,  and  those 
who  are  dead  are  of  no  account  in  the  '  game.' 

Tom  Granville  was  a  great  admirer  of  the  game  of  dominoes 
and  of  the  society  which  it  brought  nightly  around  him 

One  evening  he  came  into  the  room  where  his  friends  were 
playing,  and  there  he  found  Marion  Monck ;  he  seated  himself 
at  the  centre  table  and  called  for  a  cup  of  coffee,  observing, 

"  Gentlemen,  I  will  take  a  hand  in  the  next  game  with  you. 
I  have  seen  a  leper  to-day." 

"  A  leper  !"  was  repeated  by  a  dozen  members  of  the  club. 

"  Yes,  gentlemen,  I  have  seen  and  conversed  with  a  genu- 
ine leper  to-day — no  mistake  about  it.  I  myself  had  doubts 
about  there  being  any  lepers  in  this  country,  but  I  was  mista- 
ken. Listen  to  me,  incredulous  ones,  and  believe  me.  I  was 


VIGOR.  377 

turning  up  into  the  Bowery  from  Chatham  Square,  on  the  left 
hand  side  as  you  go  up,  and  at  Pell  street — a  little  bit  of  a 
street  which  empties  into  the  Bowery  near  Chatham,  I  was  de- 
tained a  moment.  I  there  saw  a  man  surrounded  by  a  lot  ot 
curious  boys  ;  he  wa^  seated  upon  the  ground,  and  his  face  was 
like  a  leper.  I  started  the  boys  off,  and  then  cross-questioned 
the  individual.  I  gave  him  a  quarter,  and  suggested  that  his 
face  was  covered  with  leprosy.  He  confessed  it  at  once — 
what  do  you  think  of  it,  eh  ?"  asked  Tom  triumphantly. 

"  Is  leprosy  catching  ?'"  inquired  Mr.  Gemmel. 

"  Pooh,  pooh,  no.  It  is  nasty,  but  not  catching,  replied 
Tom. 

Marion  Monck  had  listened  attentively,  and  when  the  story 
about  the  leprosy  was  finished,  said, 

"  Mr.  Granville,  did  you  ever  see  a  man  with  the  small 
pox?" 

"  No,  I  never  did — and  what  is  more,  I  never  wish  to,  for  I 
have  never  had  it  myself;  but  what  the  devil  do  you  ask  such 
a  disagreeable  question  for — who  is  talking  about  small  pox, 
and  what  has  that  got  to  do  with  my  leper  that  I  was  telling 
you  about  ?" 

All  the  company  shuddered  at  the  suggestion.  Marion  re- 
plied calmly, 

"  I  asked  if  you  had  ever  seen  a  case  of  the  small  pox,  be- 
cause I  have  been  informed  that  before  it  breaks  out,  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  face  of  the  person  who  is  infected  bears  very 
much  the  appearance  of  him  who  in  Eastern  climes  is  affected 
with  the  leprosy — that  is  all." 

"  Indeed  !  Come,  don't  let  us  say  anything  more  about 
small  pox  or  leprosy,  it  makes  me  nervous,"  replied  Tom. 
So  the  subject  was  dropped,  and  just  at  that  moment  Madame 
Vigne  came  to  the  table  and  requested  Tom  to  accompany  her 
to  the  supper  room.  Supper  was  on  the  table,  but  there  were 
no  guests  partaking  of  it,  and  Ma-lame  and  Tom  were  engaged 
in  earnest  conversation.  Of  the  nAure  of  that  conversation  we 
will  give  an  idea  before  finishing  this  chapter. 

Not  a  week  had  passed  after  Tom  became  a  permanent  oc- 
cupant of  this  hotel,  before  a  creature  made  hor  appearance 
behind  the  bar  whose  beauty  was  of  a  kind  that  startled  as 
well  as  captivated  at  first  sight.  Granville  had  risen  very 
early  that  morning  and  descended  the  stairs  ;  he  went  to  the 
bar  to  address  Madame  Vigne,  but  the  face  tbat  beamed  upoa 
him  made  him  excluim,  "  Good  heavens,  who  are  you  ?"  The 
person  thus  addressed  was  a  girl  evidently  not  over  fifteen 


378  VIGOR. 

years  old,  and  girlish  in  every  action.  Her  hair  was  jet  black, 
and  combed  back  from  a  large  alabaster  forehead  and  gathered 
up  in  a  close  knot  that  was  as  large  as  one  third  of  the  girl's 
magnificent  head.  Her  skin  was  perfectly  transparent,  and 
the  clear  white  and  red  were  only  visible*  She  had  a  Grecian 
cast  of  features  and  her  smile  exhibiting  a  pair  of  delicate  red 
lips  and  snow  white  teeth,  was  irresistible.  Her  form  was 
beautifully  proportioned — a  full  bosom  and  small  waist,  and  her 
movements  were  grace  itself.  She  walked  with  that  lithe  and 
limping  air,  which  in  a  young  and  beautiful  girl  has  a  powerful 
charm.  She  did  not  understand  a  word  of  English,  but  Tom 
spoke  French  as  well  as  English. 

They  were  alone  in  the  roum,  and  when  Tom  questioned  her 
closely,  she  informed  him  that  she  had  come  from  France  not 
many  months  previous  with  her  mother.  She  was  from  the 
very  province  in  France  of  which  Lyons  is  the  capital.  She 
had  been  frequently  a  visitor  to  that  city.  Tom  could  de- 
scribe every  building  in  it,  and  this  at  once  was  an  interesting 
topic  of  conversation  between  them.  Her  name  was  Clotilde. 
She  informed  Tom  Granvilie  that  her  mother  had  recently  died, 
and  tliat  "  Madame,"  so  she  called  Mrs.  Vigne,  had  agreed  to 
support  her,  and  she,  in  return,  was  to  tend  the  bar  and  wait 
on  such  customers  as  called  for  coffee.  Tom  became  really 
eloquent  to  the  beautiful  Clotilde.  He  told  her  of  the  "dangers 
— of  the  attractions  of  her  beauty — of  the  insults  she  would  re- 
ceive, and  finally  asked  her  if  he,  Tom,  would  get  Mrs.  Vigne 
to  give  up  the  idea  of  her  tending  bar,  whether  she  would  agree 
to  it. 

"  I  have  money,  and  I  will  pay  Madame  Vigne  your  board, 
rather  than  you  should  be  exposed  to  be  gazed  at  and  in- 
sulted," said  Tom. 

The  honest,  heart-felt  interest  Tom  expressed  had  its  effect. 
The  poor  girl's  eyes  opened  to  the  widest  extent  as  she  re- 
garded Tom's  speaking  features.  She  was  interested,  and 
months  of  ordinary  intercrorse  could  not  have  made  Clotilde 
so  deeply  grateful  as  that  morning's  conversation.  Tom  told 
her  where  his  room  was,  and  added,  "  For  your  own  sake,  I 
shall  avoid  conversing  much  with  you  while  you  are  behind 
the  bar.  When  you  receive  a  signal  from  me,  make  your  es- 
cape and  come  to  my  room."  The  girl  agreed  to  do  so.  That 
day  Tom  remonstrated  with  the  Madame  against  employing  the 
girl  in  the  bar-room,  but  it  made  no  impression  upon  her  mind. 
He  offered  to  pay  her  board.  That  Madame  listened  to.  The 
beautiful  girl  was  employed  as  bar-tender  for  several  days,  but 


VIGOR.  379 

her  ignorance  of  money  and  the  trouble  her  presence  occasioned 
among  the  boarders,  who  all  became  in  love  with  her,  made  the 
M.-idame  anxious  to  withdraw  her  from  such  services.  She 
talked  with  Tom  Granville  about  it,  and  he  again  repeated  his 
offer  to  pay  her  board. 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Granville,  I  agree  to  it  on  one  condition. 
You  shall  tell  me  why  you  do  this — why  you  care  about  hor — 
and  what  are  your  intentions.  I  have  a  right  to  ask  these 
questions,  for  the  leetle  girl  is  under  my  charge." 

"  Certainly  you  have,  and  as  my  intentions  are  not  wrong,  I 
will  tell  you.  You  know  that  I  have  money.  Very  well.  If 
you  will  keep  this  girl  in  the  house,  and  let  her  go  to  school,  I 
will  pay  all  her  expenses.  When  I  find"  that  she  likes  me,  I 
will  marry  her.  Is  that  enough  ?"  asked  Tom. 

It  was  more  than  enough.  Madame  at  once  summoned  the 
fair  object  of  so  much  trouble,  and  informed  her  of  what  Tom 
had  proposed. 

"  I  love  Monsieur  Granville  now  with  all  my  heart  and 
soul,"  was  the  frank  respose  of  the  girl.  In  fact,  not  a  day 
had  passed  that  she  had  not  been  to  Tom's  room  and  held  a 
conversation  with  him.  Not  a  hand  or  a  finger  had  Tom  placed 
upon  her.  Not  a  single  caress  at  their  interviews,  and  the 
young  French  girl  who  had  expected,  and  was  prepared  to  re- 
pel them,  was  agreeably  disappointed,  and  these  facts  combined 
with  Tom's  fascinating  manners,  had  won  her  heart.  When 
other  boarders  had  been  civil  to  her,  or  made  love  to  her,  she 
had  repelled  them  with  as  much  scorn  as  if  some  great  wrong 
had  been  proposed  to  Tom.  Whon  Tom  had  the  conversation 
with  Madame,  and  she  agreed  to  his  proposition,  Clotilde  was 
at  onca  taken  out  of  the  bar.  She  became  a  sort  of  companion 
to  the  Madame,  and  Tom,  with  her  sanction,  went  out  with  Clo- 
tilde about  every  night,  and  visited  some  place  of  amusement. 
She  was- delighted.  Tom  told  her  to  regard  herself  as  his 
wife,  and  to  ask  for  money,  and  he  proffered  all  she  needed 
from  week  to  week.  One  night  he  had  been  with  her  at  the 
opera,  where  her  extreme  beauty  had  attracted  the  attention 
Off  all  in  the  vicinity.  As  they  were  returning  home,  linked 
arm  in  arm,  Tom  asked  her  if  she  would  marry  him.  Clotilde 
replied  at  once.  She  would  do  so  then  or  at  any  time.  Tom 
Grauville  pressed  the  white  hand  that  reposed  in  his  own,  and 
begged  her  to  listen  to  his  story.  He  then  told  her  of  his  wife 
— gave  the  entire  history,  and  again  asked  the  sweet  French 
girl  if  she  would  marry  him. 


380  •     VIGOR. 

"  I  love  you  more  than  ever,  because  you  have  been  so  badly 
treated  by  that  proud  woman,"  replied  Clotilde. 

Tom  was  delighted,  but  honest.  He  then  informed  Clotilde 
that,  his  wife  had  procured  the  divorce,  that  she  could  marry 
again,  but  that  he  could  not,  and  explained  the  di-vorce  laws  to 
the  best  of  hie  ability.  He  told  her  that  were  he  to  go  and 
marry  her,  he  would  be  liable  to  be  punished  for  bigamy.  The 
wild  girl  replied, 

"  Then,  Monsieur  Thomas,  do  not  marry  me,  but  I  will  be 
your  wife,  and  you  shall  be  my  husband.  I  love  you.  I  am 
yours,  and  death  only  shall  separate  us." 

When  they  reached  the  hotel,  Tom  proposed  that  they  should 
confide  in  Madam,  and  to  her  Tom  told  his  history. 

"  Then  I  will  marry  you,'1  said  the  sympathising  landlady. 
"  Do  you  write  a  paper  solemnly  promising  that  you  will  take 
Clotilde,  support,  live  with,  and  be  a  father  to  her  children,  if 
she  has  any,  and  that  your  will  give  her  all  your  money  if  you 
die,  and  swear  to  it  on  the  Holy  Evangile,  and  put  in  it  that 
you  would  marry  her  in  church  but  for  the  reasons  you  have 
told  me  you  cannot  ?  Clotilde  shall  write  another  paper,  and 
sign  it,  and  promise  to  be  your  faithful,  good  wife.  You  also 
make  a  will  before  a  lawyer,  that  if  you  die  you  leave  nil  you 
have  to  Clotilde,  and  when  you  have  both  done  this,  then  y«>u 
shall  leave  these  papers  in  my  hands,  and  I  will  pronounce  you 
to  be  man  and  wife,  and  then  you  and  she  can  do  what  you  like 
and  amuse  yourselves  as  you  please." 

All  went  to  bed  that  night  pleased.  The  next  day  Tom  re- 
ligiously executed  the  papers,  and  so  did  Clotilde.  Madame 
changed  Clotilde  from  her  old  room  to  one  that  adjoined  Tom's, 
and  which  communicated  by  a  door,  the  two  rooms  having  been 
occupied  formerly  as  a  parlor  and  a  bed-room.  No  noise  was 
made.  All  was  done  quietly,  and  not  a  soul  was  the  wiser  of 
these  matters  but  Madame  herself,  and  Tom  Granvi.'Ie  found 
himself  the  actual  possessor  of  one  of  the  loveliest  girls  that 
France  had  ever  sent  to  these  shores.  Tom  admired  his  new 
wife.  He  found  her  as  charming  in  mind  as  she  was  in  person, 
and  she  returned  his  love  with  ardor,  for  it  was  her  first  love, 
and  she  worshipped  him.  A  few  days  after  their  occupying 
the  same  apartments,  Tom  playfully  told  her  that  she  was  a 
perfect  copy,  made  by  Nature  of  the  "  Venus  de  Medicis,"  and 
added,  "  I  want  to  see  your  hair  full  as  Nature  made  it."  She 
undid  the  fastening,  flung  it  loose,  and  the  dark  masses,  when 
she  leaned  slightly  backward  when  standing,  swept  the  flour. 
Tom  caressed  her,  and  while  playing  aud  tangling  it,  observed, 


VIGOR.  3S1 

"  Dear  Clotilde,  I  was  not  deceived.  The  first  time  I  mefc 
you,  I  was  attached  to  you  by  your  hair." 

"  But,  Tom,  it  was  all  done  up  in  a  tight  knot.  How  coufd 
you  tell  whether  it  was  long  or  short,  thick  or  thin?"  she 
asked. 

"  My  eyes  could  net  deceive  me  in  the  beautiful  ornament, 
my  dear  Clotilde,"  replied  Tom. 

Tom  became  really  happy.  He  had  some  thing  to  love,  and 
some  thing  to  love  him.  His  stern  economy  can  now  be  ac- 
counted for.  The  extra  expense  incurred  by  his  beautiful  com- 
panion was  nothing.  The  Madame  merely  added  a  few  dollars  to 
his  monthly  board,  and  Clotilde  Granville  was  her  companion 
when  Tom  was  out,  or  when  engaged  in  the  dominoe-room.  At 
the  table  she  ate  her  meals  with  Madame  and  her  husband,  and 
Tom  continued  to  take  his  at  the  same  time.  Thomas  Gran- 
ville had  been  thus  pleasantly  situated  for  some  weeks  when 
the  occurrence  took  place  in  reference  to  the  lesson  which  we. 
have  narrated  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter.  The  pleasant 
arrangement  between  Thomas  Granville  and  Clotilde  had  some 
drawbacks.  Tom  accompanied  her  whenever  she  went  out, 
and  her  beauty  attracted  great  attention.  Tom's  friends  made 
many  inquiries  as  to  who  she  was.  His  roue"  acquaintances 
tried  hard  to  get  an  introduction.  It  was  all  in  vain. 

Early  one  morning  Tom,  accompanied  by  Clotilde,  was  saun- 
tering upon  the  Battery.  He  had  pointed  out  to  his  companion 
the  house  occupied  by  his  brother,  when  that  same  brother 
stood  suddenly  before  them.  Tom  was  not  often  taken  by  sur- 
prise, and  without  a  moment's  hesitation  he  introduced  Clotilde 
as  Madame  Michel.  Never  did  a  more  perfect  lady  stand  upon 
the  Battery,  and  Pitt  Granville  was  sensibly  aware  of  it  He 
was  a  gentleman  when  he  chose  to  be  so,  and  immediately  of- 
fered his  arm.  Tom  explained  that  Madame  Michel  had  but 
recently  arrived  to  look  after  some  property  of  her  husband, 
who  had  died  in  Martinique,  where  the  widow  was  bound ;  that 
he  knew  her  in  France,  and  was  agreeably  surprised  to  meet 
her  here  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris,  where  she  was  stopping.  Clo- 
tilde had  lenrned  English  from  Tom  to  an  extent  that  enabled 
her  to  express  a  few  words  very  prettily  in  English,  and  Pitt 
Granville  talked  on  as  though  she  understood  all  he  was  say- 
ing. At  last  he  invited  them  over  to  breakfast  This  Tom  ex- 
plained to  the  lady,  but  prudently  declined,  giving  a  satisfac- 
tory excuse.  Before  Pitt  Granville  parted  from  them,  he 
placed  some  money  in  Tom's  hands,  and  after  his  departure 
Tom -handed  it  to  Clotilde,  and  then  returned  up  Broadway  to 


382  VIGOR. 

the  hotel.     Clotilde  could  not  conceal  her  satisfaction  at  having 
met  with  Tom's  brother. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  so  much  money  as  you  give  me  ? 
Every  week  it  is  a  great  deal.  All  you  have  given  to  Madame 
she  has  given  to  me.  I  pay  all  our  bills.  I  pay  for  nice 
dresses  for  myself,  and  yet  we  have  plenty  left.  I  have  more 
than  four  hundred  dollars  in  my  pocket-book." 

Tom  found  that  his  brother  Pitt  had  given  him  a  hundred  ; 
and  the  next  day  he  took  Clotilde  to  the  Savings  Bank,  and 
had  four  hundred  more  passed  to  his  credit.  The  teller  also, 
at  Tom's  request,  gave  a  new  book,  placing  all  Tom's  money, 
amounting  to  about  twenty-four 'hundred  dollars,  in  such  a 
manner  that  Clotilde  Michel  or  himself  could  either  of  them 
draw  the  money  on  presenting  the  book.  He  explained  the 
matter  fully  to  Clotilde  after  they  left  the  bank.  She  was 
amazed. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  in  case  I  should  take  that  little 
book,  and  go  to  that  bank  without  you,  that  they  would  pay  me 
all  that  money — twenty-four  hundred  dollars  ?"  asked  Clotilde 

"  Every  cent  of  it,  pet,  and  ask  you  no  questions.  It  has 
been  placed  to  your  credit  as  well  as  to  mine.  So  we  must, 
take  good  care  of  the  book,"  said  Tom. 

The  French  girl  was  very  much  affected.  Such  generosity 
surprised  her.  "  Why  have  you  done  this  ?"  she  asked. 

. "  To  make  you  comfortable  in  case  of  my  death.  I  know 
you  would  never  rob  me  of  it,  or  abuse  my  confidence  in  your 
integrity  and  virtue.  Clotilde,  I  want~to  see  you  placed  above 
want,  in  case  of  accident  to  me.  You  love  me,  and  you  make 
me  very  happy.  What  is  a  few  hundred  dollars  with  what 
you  are  to  me — a  fond,  loving  friend  ?"  said  Tom,  earnestly. 

The  French  girl  wept.  She  fully  comprehended  Tom,  and 
she  determined  that  she  would  make  him  happy  as  long  as  she 
lived,  and  she  did. 

There  are  many  of  the  then  boarders  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris 
who  are  now  living,  and  who  will  well  remember  a  tragedy 
that  occurred  in  that  hotel,  and  which  originated  with  this  fair 
French  girl.  A  young  Frenchman  came  out  from  France,  and 
stopped  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris.  He  had  a  room  on  the  same 
floor  with  Tom,  and  directly  opposite  Tom's  room.  He  had 
seen  this  young  girl,  as  he  supposed,  and  fell  madly  in  love 
with  her — regular  French  frenzy  love.  He  offered  money  to 
Clotilde  to  marry  him.  Of  course,  her  mind  was  filled  with 
Tom  Granville,  and  she  rejected  all  overtures  from  the  young 
Frenchman  with  scorn.  He  knew  nothing  of  Tom  Grauville, 


VIGOR.  385 

and  he  consulted  Madame  Vigne.  She  told  young  Paris  to 
keep  quiet,  and  assured  him  that  he  had  not  a  show  to  gain  the 
affections  of  her  young  countrywoman. 

On  Sunday  morning  the  young  Frenchman  wrote  a  letter  to 
Clotilde.  She  at  once  handed  it  to  Tom.  The  letter  was  re- 
turned to  young  France.  Soon  after  Tom  descended  to  the 
bar-room,  and  was  in  the  act  of  lighting  his  cigar,  when  one  of 
the  waiters  rushed  down  stairs  and  said  that  young  France  had 
blown  his  brains  out.  Tom  and  Madame  Vigne  hurried  up 
stairs  to  the  suicide's  room.  He  had  strength  enough  to  say 
that  he  had  been  despised  by  Clotilde,  and  life  was  no  longer 
valuable. 

"  Poor  devil,  what  a  melancholy  fool  !"  quietly  observed 
Tom,  as  he  went  to  Clotilde's  and  his  own  room,  and  they 
locked  themselves  in,  while  he  explained  the  tragedy.  A 
coroner's  jury  was  called  ~T  and  as  the  young  man  had  in  his 
trunk  over  a  thousand  francs  in  gold  pieces,  he  had  a  superb 
funeral.  The  jury  rendered  a  verdict  in  accordance  with  the 
circumstances,  without  the  slightest  idea  of  the  real  state  of 
the  case.  Thomas  reflected  upon  the  matter  like  a  philosopher, 
but  Clotilde  scouted  the  idea  of  such  foolishness  as  any  mau 
killing  himself  on  her  account. 

This  tragedy  decided  Tom  to  move  his  quarters,-  and  to  take 
Clotilde  with  him.  The  very  day  he  met  the  "  Leper  "  man 
he  had  been  looking  for  a  part  of  a  house  in  the  eastern  part 
of  the  town.  Some  days  passed,  and  meanwhile  Clotilde  went 
with  him  to  look  at  the  house  he  proposed  renting,  when  an 
event  occurred  that  destroyed  all  housekeeping  projects. 

Tom  complained  of  being  ill,  and  kept  himself  in  his  room 
for  a  day  or  more.  Marion  Monck  called,  and  Tom  ordered  the 
servant  to  bring  him  up  stairs  to  his  apartment.  Clotilde  was 
with  him,  and  refused  to  leave  the  room.  When  Marion  en- 
tered, Tom  received  him  cordially,  and  after  a  short  conversa- 
tion, made  him  take  a  seat  closer  to  him. 

"  Marion,  do  you  know  that  I  have  fretted  myself  about  that 
'  Leper  '  I  told  you  of.  i  am  satisfied  that  the  man  has  the 
email  pox." 

The  last  words  he  whispered  in  Marion's  ear. 

"  Good  G-od  !     You  don't  think  so,  really  1" 

"  I  do — and  what  is  more,  I  have  caught  it." 

"  Nonsense  ;"  replied  Marion.  "  But  I  will  go  and  bring 
you  a  doctor." 

"  That  yoil  may  do  ;  and  mind,  if  I  have  it,  will  you  see  me 
conveyed  to  the  Staten  Island  Small  Pox  Hospital  ?  I  don't 


384  VIGOR.     x 

want  to  go  to  the  Almshouse,  and  I  know  I  must  leave  this 
hotel.     Not  a  word  to  a  soul,  remember." 

Marion  promised,  and  then  left  the  room,  and  immediately 
went  for  Doctor  Carnochan,  a  physician  as  well  known  to  Tom 
as  himself.  The  doctor  came,  and  pronounced  upon  the  case 
at  once.  It  was  the  small  pox.  And  now  shone  out  the  worth 
and  the  devotion  of  a  true-hearted  woman.  It  was  decided 
that  Tom  should  be  taken  at  once  to  Staten  Island.  Clotilde 
refused  to  leave  him.  Marion  went  down  to  the  Island  and 
made  all  the  necessary  arrangements,  and  that  very  afternoon 
Tom  was  conveyed  to  the  Staten  Island  Hospital,  and  Clotilde 
was  by  his  side  as  his  nurse.  She  did  not  leave  him  for  a 
moment. 

Marion  returned  to  the  city,  and  informed  Madame  Vigne  of 
the  real  state  of  the  case.  She  was  alarmed,  but  kept  the  mat- 
ter secret.  Tom's  apartments  were  'fumigated,  and  no  other 
case  occurred.  Mr.  Monck  visited  the  Island  and  made  daily 
inquiries  after  Tom,  but  did  not  see  him.  A  week  told  the 
story.  Thomas  Granville  was  dead. 

While  ho  was  ill,  Clotilde  never  slept  but  for  an  instant  or 
two  at  a  time.  He  was  raving  and  did  not  know  her;  but  just 
before  he  died,  he  became  perfectly  sensible.  He  knew  her. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  own  dear  Clotilde.  It  is  hard  to  part 
with  you,  bard  to  part  with  life,  just  as  I  have  learned  how  to 
live  and  to  enjoy  it ;  and  you,  of  all  the  world  that  I  have  known, 
are  the  only  one  by  my  side  in  this  awful  crisis.  Don't  weep 
— don't  quiver.  Bear  up  as  well  as  you  can.  When  I  am 
dead,  go  and  draw  the  money  in  the  bank  for  your  own  pur- 
poses. It  is  yours.  If  there  is  any  objection,  the  will  I  made 
and  gave  Madame  Vigne  is  good.  That  is  not  all.  When  a 
week  has  elapsed,  go  to  my  brother,  and  tell  him  all.  Tell 
him  how  you  have  been  devoted  to  me  to  the  bitter  end  of  my 
useless  life,  and  he  will  be  softened — he  will — O,  my  flod  ! — 
it's  dark — get  a  light — Jesu  " — 

Clotilde  had  lifted  his  head  up,  but  with  the  partly  uttered 
word  of  our  Saviour's  name,  he  fell  back  upon  the  pillow  a 
corpse,  aud  his  nurse — the  beautiful  Clotilde,  faithful  to  the 
last,  fell  senseless  upon  his  body. 

She  witnessed  the  burial  of  Thomas  Granville,  which  was 
solemn  and  immediate.  Then  she  left  the  hospital  where  he 
had  died,  and  came  up  to  the  city,  a  stern,  beautiful  woman. 
She  was  no  longer  the  passionate,  loving,  laughing  girl.  She 
went  directly  to  the  Hotel  do  Paris,  and  the  Madame  gave  her 
the  old  apartments,  which  had  not  been  rented.  She  waited  a 


VIGOR.  385 

week,  and  then  called  on  Pitt  Granville.  He  was  bowed  down, 
and  took  poor  Tom's  death  much  to  heart.  She  narrated  all 
that  had  passed,  and  showed  Tom's  bank  book  and  his  will,  and 
the  other  papers.  Mr.  Granville  rang  the  bell,  and  then  or- 
dered the  carriage. 

"  I  will  go  with  you  to  the  Savings  Bank,"  he  added  ;  and 
when  the  carriage  was  ready,  they  entered  it  together,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  bank.  Mr.  Granville  was  well  known  there.  He 
asked  if  there  would  be  any  difficulty  in  Clotilde  receiving  the 
money — the  twenty-four  hundred  dollars  ? 

"  None  whatever.  Whenever  she  wishes  she  can  draw  it 
out,"  replied  the  official. 

"  Then  add  this  to  her  credit  in  the  book,"  said  Mr.  Gran- 
ville ;  and  when  Clotilde  saw  the  entry  in  the  book,  she  dis- 
covered that  Tom's  brother  had  given  her  twenty-five  hun- 
dred dollars.  He  begged  her  to  use  his  name,  and  to  call  upon 
him  whenever  he  could  be  of  service  to  her  ;  and  he  conveyed 
her  to  the  Hotel  de  Paris  in  his  own  carriage,  and  there  left 
her.  He  never  saw  her  agnin.  Neither  did  Clotilde  remain 
but  a  few  days  longer  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris.  She  then  left, 
and  what  her  fate  was  did  not  transpire  for  many  years. 

Our   readers  may  be  anxious   to   know  what   that  fate  was. 

Twelve  years  after  the  event  of  Tom  Granville's  death,  a 
beautiful  woman  called  upon  Marion  Monck.  She  had  just  re- 
turned from  California,  where  she  had  amassed  a  large  pro- 
perty. She  called  herself  Mrs.  Granville,  and  she  went  with 
Marion  to  a  French  banking-house  and  bought  bills  of  exchange 
on  Paris  to  the  extent  of  eight  hundred  thousand  francs.  She 
was  older,  and  more  majestic  than  formerly.  She  went  to 
France,  but  what  became  of  her  is  a  mystery  ;  and  what  had 
been  the  manner  of  her  .earning  so  large  a  property  in  Califor- 
nia was  a  still  greater  mystery. 

Tom  Granville  was  soon  forgotten,  and  our  narrative  will  now 
-eturn  to  its  regular  course. 


17 


386  VIGOR. 


CHAPTER    LXL 

The  Globe  TJot-l  and  Blanfard—.Tohn  O'Doemall—  The  Colonel  Cloirfo^t 
and  Lady  Clairfoot — A  Horrible  Seduction  and  Robbery  of  £3000  —  The 
Jjloominydale  Asylum  and  an  Inmate. 

FOR  many  years  a  large  hotel  called  the  "  Globe  Hotel  " 
was  maintained  in  the  lower  part  of  Broadway.  .It  was  located 
a  few  doors  below  Wall  street,  extended  from  Broadway  to 
New  street,  and  the  name  of  the  proprietor  was  "  Blancard." 

At  this  hotel  Mr.  O'Doemall  was  sometimes  a  boarder,  but 
at  all  times  a  visitor.  The  "  Globe  "  was  the  home  of  many 
distinguished  Englishmen,  who  came  to  this  country  to  travel, 
or  of  English  officers  on  their  way  to  Canada,  or  on  their 
return  from  Canada  to  England. 

To  this  hotel  came  an  English  lieutenant-colonel,  with  his 
wife.  He  was  on  his  way  to  Canada,  and  had  arrived  in  the 
city  in  the  month  of  January.  It  was  bitter  cold  weather. 
His  name  was  Clairfoot.  Among  the  first  acquaintances  ho 
made  was  Mr.  O'Doemall.  The  latter  gentleman  in  the  most 
disinterested  manner  informed  Colonel  Clairfoot  that  the 
weather  was  so  cold  in  Canada  that  he  stood  in  danger  of 
freezing  to  death.  This  had  no  effect,  so  far  as  the  colonel 
was  concerned,  but  it  alarmed  him  on  account  of  his  wife,  and 
he  became  anxious  that  she  should  not  accompany  him  ;  and 
the  more  so  as  his  stay  in  Canada  was  not  positively  determined. 
He  might  be  able  to  get  through  the  military  business  with 
which  he  was  intrusted  in  a  few  weeks,  and  he  might  be  de- 
tained months.  In  the  latter  case,  he  knew  that  he  could 
speedily  send  to  his  wife  to  join  him  in  Canada,  whenever  he 
might  be  located  for  any  length  of  time.  When  Colonel 
Clairfoot  had  decided  upon  this  course,  he  consulted  with  his 
friend  O'Doemall  in  reference  to  procuring  handsome  apart- 
ments in  a  private  house.  He  did  not  like  the  idea  of  leaving 
his  w^fe  at  a  public  hotel.  Mr.  O'Doemall  soon  procured  the 
desired  quarters  for  the  lady,  and  to  them  the  colonel  removed. 
The  house  was  a  boarding-house  in  Chambers  street,  and  the 
colonel  had  taken  the  whole  of  the  second  floor  for  his  lady. 
She  was  a  peer's  daughter,  and,  of  course,  a  lady  in  her  own 
right.  She  was  a  very  fine  showy  Englishwoman — not  over 

* 

j 


VIGOR.  387 

twenty-five  years  of  age,  while  the  colonel  was  a  man  who  had 
nearly  reached  fifty.  In  the  course  of  the  proceedings,  O'Do- 
emall  had  been  introduced  to  Lady  Clairfoot,  and  when  the 
colonel  left  for  Canada  he  partly  entrusted  her  to  the  care  of 
his  friend  O'Doemall,  who  on  his  part  promised  to  do  all  and 
every  thing  that  could  possibly  conduce  to  the  comfort  of  the 
lady.  The  colonel  started  for  Canada  quite  satisfied  with  hi» 
arrangements.  His  wife  had  money  in  her  own  right  when  he 
married  her,  besides  ample  funds  left  with  her  by  the  colonel 
for  her  own  use.  She  had  brought  a  letter  of  credit  upon  the 
agents  of  the  Rothschilds^  for  three  thousand  pounds  sterling. 
A  knowledge  of  these  facts  had  been  picked  up  by  O'Doemall, 
and  no  sooner  had  his  friend  the  colonel  started  for  the  North 
than  O'Doemall  went  adroitly  to  work  to  carry  out  his  plans  and 
purposes,  whatever  they  may  have  been.  He  found  out  the 
weak  points  of  Lady  Clairfoot  in  a  very  short  space  of  time. 
He  soon  managed  to  get  up  a  quarrel  between  her  ladyship 
and  the  family  in  whose  house  she  had  rooms,  while  he  appar- 
ently was  the  pacificator  and  friend  of  the  landlady.  The  lady 
was  induced  to  have  her  meals  in  her  own  apartments,  and  Mr. 
O'Doemall  continued  to  be  a  regular  visitor  both  at  the  dinner 
hour  and  at  tea,  for  hardly  an  evening  passed  that  he  did  not 
escort  her  to  a  place  of  public  amusement.  After  the  play  was 
over,  Lady  Clairfoot — who  was  extravagantly  fond  of  a  good 
hearty  supper,  which  she  could  not  get  in  her  boarding-house 
— would  accompany  O'Doemall  to  "  Taylor's,"  "  Thompson's,'' 
or  some  other  well-known  restaurant.  She  was  gay  and  lively, 
perfectly  innocent,  *nd  somewhat  independent,  and  just  the 
person  with  whom  a  gentlemanly  unprincipled  rascal  like 
O'Doemall  could  make  rapid  headway. 

Fortunately,  for  the  success  of  Mr.  O'Doemall's  efforts  to 
victimize  the  worthy  lady,  her  husband  was  detained  in  Canada 
from  day  to  day,  and  as  he  was  not  a  great  letter  writer,  and 
expected  to  return  speedily,  he  did  not  write  his  lady  at  all. 

It  is  useless  to  conjecture  the  arts  used  by  such  a  man  as 
O'Doemall  to  destroy  a  woman.  He  could  resort  to  the  very 
basest  in  the  seducer's  calendar,  and  there  is  no  doubt  but 
that  some  vile  drug  was  used  to  accomplish  his  designs  upon 
Lady  Clairfoot.  She  had  accompanied  him  to  the  theatre, 
then  to  a  supper,  and  from  thence  to  her  home.  At  her  home 
he  persuaded  her  to  join  him  in  a  glass  of  bottled  ale,  of  which 
he  had  sent  to  her  room  a  dozen  bottles,  with  a  story  that  he 
had  imported  it  himself  from  London.  She  drank  one  or  more 
glasses,  and  then  remembered  nothing  more  until  she  awoke 


388  VIGOR. 

the  next  morning  in  her  sleeping  apartment,  and  Mr.  O'Doera- 
all  was  by  her  side.  The  lady  was  indignant,  and  the  man  wag 
impudent.  She  threatened,  and  he  coaxed  until  she  became 
aware  that  further  efforts  against  him  were  futile.  She  was  in 
his  power,  and  she  submitted.  He  had  obtained,  under  vari- 
ous pretences,  all  the  ready  money  she  had  with  her,  and  when 
she  asked  from  O'Doemall  sufficient  to  pay  her  board  at  the 
house,  he  made  frivolous,  lying  excuses  about  his  having  used 
her  money  until  his  own  remittances  came.  She  believed  him, 
and  (hen  he  suggested  that  she  should  draw  on  her  letter  of 
credit.  • 

He  accompanied  her  to  the  agent  of  the  Rothschilds,  and  she 
took  up  a  hundred  pounds.  Mr.  O'Doemall  had  now  the  lady 
under  his  control.  He  persuaded  her  to  leave  the  house  where 
she  had  been  placed  by  her  husband,  and  he  engaged  rooms 
for  her  in  a  distant  part  of  the  city.  There  they  lived  as  man 
and  wife. 

Mr.  O'Doemall  had  had  an  understanding  with  the  bankers 
that  the'y  would  cash  her  drafts,  if  brought  by  him,  without  re- 
quiring her  presence.  Again  she  signed  a  draft  for  a  hundred 
pounds.  She  did  not  read  the  draft,  and  with  perfect  reckless- 
ness she  plunged  into  every  species  of  dissipation.  He  intro- 
duced to  her  a  man  named  John  James  (since  in  the  Illinois 
State  Prison  for  forgery),  also  an  Englishman  by  some  distin- 
guished name,  and  then  O'Doemall  introduced  cards,  and  the 
lady  lost.  In  giving  a  draft  to  O'Doemall  for  the  usual  amount 
of  a  hundred  pounds,  as  she  supposed,  she  actually  signed  a 
draft  for  one  thousand  pounds.  This  money  O'Doemall  placed 
with  a  respectable  commercial  firm  as  his  own. 

Not  a  night  passed  'that  all  hands  were  not  engaged  in  some 
revelry.  Lady  Clairfoot  was  hardly  ever  sober,  and  she  drank 
apparently  to  drown  remorse.  Again  was  she  induced  to  draw 
for  money.  Again  did  she  sign  a  draft  for  a  very  large  amount, 
supposing  it  a  small  one,  and  this  game  was  played  success- 
fully until  all  the  money,  excepting  two  hundred  pounds,  had 
been  drawn  out  by  O'Doemall,  and  secured  over  two  thousand 
pounds,  or  about  ten  thousand  dollars  to  his  own  credit  in  the 
hands  of  this  responsible  commercial  firm,  with  whom  he  had 
never  been  known  to  have  had  .any  dealings. 

O'Doemall  was  hardly  sober  a  moment,  except  when  it  was 
necessary  to  accomplish  his  plans.  His  partner,  John  James, 
had  no  knowledge  of  the  extent  of  the  villainy  which  was  being 
perpetrated  upon  Lady  Clairfoot.  Mr.  James  supposed  that 
O'Doemall  was  victimizing  her  to  the  extent  of  a  few  hundred 


VIGOR.  389 

pounds,  and  he  was  satisfied  with  a  small  share  of  it.  Had  he 
known  the  game  was  thousands,  he  would  have  claimed  more. 
Mr.  O'Doemall  was  not  asleep  in  reference  to  Colonel  C lair- 
foot.  He  felt  guilty,  and  knew  there  would  be  a  terrible  reck- 
oning when  the  Colonel  made  his  appearance  in  New  York, 
and  was  informed  of  the  facts.  He  kept  Mr.  James  constantly 
employed  in  seeking  news  of  the  Colonel's  movements.  He 
himself  changed  his  haunts,  and  wnen  he  had  obtained  and  se- 
cured two  thousand  pounds,  and  had,  besides,  seven  hundred 
dollars  in  cash,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  abandon  the  lady  to 
her  fate,  and  quit  the  city  until  the  storm  blew  over. 

One  of  his  haunts  was  the  Shakespeare  Restaurant,  then 
kept  by  Windust.  Here  he  was  found  by  Mr.  James  one 
morning  quite  intoxicated,  and  utterly  incapable  of  taking  care 
of  himself.  Mr.  James  informed  him  that  Colonel  Clairfoot 
had  reached  New  York,  and  was  at  the  "  Globe  Hotel."  This 
alarming  news  produced  no  effect  upon  the  hearer,  except  to 
make  him  extremely  pugnacious.  He  was  at  once  desirous  to 
go  and  fight  Colonel  Clairfoot,  and  avenge  his  wrongs  and  pro- 
tect Lady  Clairfoot.  Luckily,  he  was  too  drunk  to  get  off  his 
chair  or  to  walk  across  the  bar-room  without  assistance. 

Mr.  James  was  in  a  quandary.  He  dreaded  an  explosion  or 
an  explanation,  for  he  was  fearful  that  he  should  be  called  up- 
on to  disgorge,  or  perhaps  explain  before  a  magistrate  his  share 
in  the  infamous  seduction  and  plunder  of  the  English  lady. 

Under  these  circumstances  he  passed  into  the  street,  hoping 
to  find  assistance.  He  had  not  proceeded  more  than  a  block 
before  he  encountered  Marion  Monck.  O'Doemall  had  once 
introduced  Mr.  James  to  Marion,  and  now  he  renewed  the  ac- 
quaintance. Marion  received  his  advance  somewhat  coldly. 
He  knew  nothing  of  Mr.  James,  except  as  a  friend  of  Mr. 
O'Doemall,  and  since  the  robbery  of  Colonel  William  Mac 
Neil  he  had  been  unable  to  free  his  mind  from  an  impression 
that  O'D'oemall  was  the  robber,  and  indirectly  the  assassin  of 
the  Colonel.  Mr.  James  asked  Marion  if  he  was  disposed  to 
do  an  act  of  kindness  for  one  who  had  been  friendly  to  him 
when  sick. 

"  Most  certainly.  Who  is  he  ?  and  where  is  he  ?"  inquired 
Marion. 

"  It  is  Mr.  O'Doemall.  He  is  down  in  Windust's  cellar,  ex- 
tremely drunk.  And  that  is  not  all  ;  he  has  been  drinking  for 
several  weeks,  and  unless  he  is  placed  under  immediate  re- 
straint, I  fear  he  will  injure  himself  or  some  one  else.  He  is 


390  VIGOR. 

now  so  drunk  he  cannot  stand.  He  has  plenty  of  money  about 
him,"  observed  Mr.  James. 

Marion  was  about  to  say  "  Send  him  to  the  hospital,"  when 
poor  Mac  Neil's  hasty  fate  crossed  his  mind,  and  he  hesitated. 
"  Has  he  nobody  to  look  after  him  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Not  a  soul  but  me,"  replied  James. 

Marion  thought  that  Mr.  James  was  not  a  very  trustworthy 
friend,  and  he  at  once  offered  his  services.  "  Take  me  to 
O'Doemall,"  he  said.  The  two  descended  to  the  cellar  where 
O'Doemall  was  seated,  his  head  lying  upon  the  table. 

"  Hullo,  old  fellow,  what  is  wrong  with  you  ?  Wake  up,  and 
speak  to  your  friends.  Mr.  O'Doemall,  I  say,"  said  Marion. 

Tlie  drunken  man  roused  up.  "  I  tell  you  I  have  not  got  the 
lad}-'s  money,"  said  O'Doemall,  and  then  recognizing  Marion, 
who  had  spoken  to  him,  and  who  was  shaking  him,  he  added, 
"  Why,  Marion,  is  that  you  ]  I  have  not  seen  you  for  ages. 
What  is  out?" 

"  Nothing  out,  O'Doemall,  except  yourself.  You  are  all 
out.  You  are  drunk.  You  must  go  with  me,"  added  Marion. 

"  Mr.  James,  will  you  clear  out,  and  leave  me  with  my  fiiend 
Monck,"  said  O'Doemall. 

Mr.  James  went  to  the  extreme  end  of  the  room 

"  That  is  a  most  infernal  rascal,  Marion  Monck  Have  a 
care  of  him.  I  am  sober — quite  sober.  You  don't  believe  it. 
Very  well.  I  have  got  a  great  deal  of  money  with  me.  Count 
that," — and  as  Mr.  O'Doemall  said  this  he  pulled  out  bill  after 
bill,  and  when  one  pocket  was  emptied  he  tried  another,  and 
when  Marion  finished  counting  the  money  so  placed  upon  the 
table,  he  observed,  "  Why,  O'Doemall,  you  have  over  six  hun- 
dred dollars  with  you.  It  is  not  safe  to  carry  such  a  large 
amount  with  you." 

"1  know  it.  I  wish  you  to  take  it,  and  keep  it  for  me.  Will 
you  oblige  me  1  You  are  as  safe  as  the  Bank  of  England. 
That's  a  good  fellow.  I  am  not  sober,  and  I  am  not  drunk.  I 
have  not  slept  for  many  nights.  I  have  beeu  worried  very 
much,"  said  O'Doemall. 

Marion  took  all  the  money  except  the  surplus  over  the  six 
hundred,  which  he  handed  to  O'Doemall.  "  I  will  keep  it, 
O'Doemall,  but  some  thing  must  be  done  for  you.  You  are 
very  ill.  The  fact  is.,  you  require  good  nursing,  or  you  will 
die,"  said  Marion. 

"  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  it,"  replied  O'Doemall.  "  Can't 
you  take  me  to  some  nice  place — in  the  country,  for  instance, 


VIGOR. 

where  I  can  be  out  of  the  way  until  I  get  well  1     You  can  pay 
the  shot  out  of  my  money." 

Marion  agreed  to  the  proposal.  He  went  at  once  to  Mr. 
James,  and  told  him  his'  plans.  Mr.  James  was  delighted. 
"  Nothing  could  be  better,"  he  exclaimed  with  delight. 

Marion  did  not  see  what  there  was  to  be  delighted  about, 
but  he  told  Mr.  James  to  go  and  engage  a  carriage  to  go  out  a 
few  miles  into  the  country.  The  carriage  came,  and  O'Doemall 
and  his  two  friends  entered  it.  Marion  handed  the  driver  a 
ten  dollar  bill,  and  told  him  where  to  drive  and  what  to  do, 
and  shortly  after  the  carriage  and  its  contents  were  on  their 
way  to  Bloomingdale.  When  they  reached  the  gates  of  the 
asylum,  Mr.  O'Doemall  was  asleep.  Marion  got  out,  and  went 
up  to  the  building.  There  he  paid  sixty  dollars,  or  three 
months'  board  for  theirpatient,  whose  name  was  duly  entered. 
Marion  Monck  fully  explained  the  case,  and  satisfied  the  chief 
physician  that  it  was  all  right.  He  then  returned  to.  the  car- 
riage, and  almost  immediately  it  was  driven  inside  and  up  the 
main  entrance.  Servants  came  out  of  this  country  hotel  to  as- 
sist the  guest  to  his  quarters.  Mr.  O'Doemall  was  woke  up. 
He  gazed  at  Marion,  then  at  the  hotel.  Memory  recalled  a  part 
of  his  previous  conversation,  and  he  exclaimed  with  glee,  "  Ah, 
you  have  done  as  I  requested.  Got  me  a  country  hotel.  Where 
is  it  ?  What's  the  name  of  the  place  ?  Let's  go  in  and  get  a 
drink,  and  then  I  will  go  to  bed.'' 

They  entered  the  hall.  O'Doemall  began  to  notice  some 
things.  It  was  too  late.  "  Good-bye,"  said  Marion  ;  "  I  will 
come  and  see  you  in  a  few  days." 

"  I  say.  Stop.  What  does  this  mean  ?  Keep  your  hands 
off  me," — and  with  a  hundred  oaths  and  protestations  and  re- 
quests to  be  let  loose,  Mr.  O'Doemall  was  sent,  or  rather 
dragged  to  his  apartments.  He  was  a  patient  in  the  "  Bloom- 
ingdale Asylum,"  vulgarly  called  a  mad-house. 

Marion  Monck  and  Mr.  James  returned  to  the  city.  Had 
the  former  dreamed  that  his  humane  intentions  were  to  be  the 
means  of  letting  a  villain  escape  from  the  punishment  he  so 
richly  merited  from  a  wronged  husband,  he  ttould  have  cut  off 
his  own  hands  for  the  act. 

It  was  so.  Colonel  Clairfoot  made  every  effort  to  discover 
O'Doemall.  Mr.  James  went  over  to  Jersey  and  staid  three 
months,  to  keep  out  of  the  way.  There  was  no  clue  to  O'Do- 
emall's  retreat.  The  husband  found  his  wife  almost  a  maniac. 
He  learned  how  deeply  he  had  been  wronged,  and  how  largely 
she  had  been  robbed  of  honor  and  of  money.  But  time  was 


392  VIGOR. 

precious.  He  waited  a  month  to  catch  the  rascal  O'Docmall. 
He  was  not  to  be  found  anywhere.  Satisfied  that  he  had  es- 
caped his  vengeance,  the  Colonel  and  his  lady  returned  to 
England.  What  became  of  her  was  never  known  by  any  one 
on  this  side  of  the  water.  He  was  heard  of  some  years  after, 
for  he  committed  suicide  in  the  city  of  Dublin  without  any  ap- 
parent cause  (so  the  papers  stated  that  gave  an  account  of  the 
melancholy  transaction). 

Marion  Monck  was,  of  course,  ignorant  of  any  transaction  of 
a  guilty  nature  in  which  O'Doemull  had  been  engaged.  He 
supposed  he  had  drank  to  excess,  and  placed  him  where  he 
was  safe. 

A  week  elapsed  before  he  visited  him,  and  then  he  hired  a 
carriage,  and  taking  with  him  the  balance  of  the  money  left  in 
his  hands  by  O'Doemall,  he  went  out  to  the  Bloomingdale 
Asylum.  That  visit  and  the  finale  of  our  history  of  Mr.  O'Do- 
emall must  be  left  for  another  chapter. 


CHAPTER    LXIL 

Mr.  and  Mn.  Wilson— Mr.  Bennett  sends  Marion  M'Mck  to  South  Carolina 
ai  Correspondent  of  ih>.  Herald — Two  Months  with  Air.  Calhoun — JJe- 
parturefrom  Cktrl&ston  for  Ntw  York,  and  Safe  Arrival  with  Mrs.  Fer- 
guson. 

RARE  and  unfrequent  were  the  visits  that  Marion  Monck 
paid  to  the  comfortable  residence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson.  He 
was  ever  welcomed  there  by  both  husband  and  wife,  and  it 
would  be  dimcult  to  decide  why  so  old  a  friend  did  not  visit 
them  oftener.  There  was  one  reason,  however,  which  Mariou 
hardly  understood  himself.  He  was  not  at  home  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Mrs.  Wilson.  He  remembered  the  young  wife  of  Mr. 
Nordheim,  and  there  was  something  he  could  not  forget — and 
yet  he  could  hardly  understand  what  that  something  was.  The 
Count  Falsechinski,  who  was  a  perfect  man  of  the  world,  had 
on  one  occasion  enlightened  him  as  to  the  past  feelings  of  Mrs. 
Nordheim,  but  yet  he  could  not  reconcile  the  opinion  with  the 
fact,  that  the  widow  NordliGim  had  married  Mr.  Wilson. 

It  was  a  happy  marriage.  They  had  become  parents  to  two 
children,  both  boys,  and  the  second  one  was  named  "  Marion." 

Marion  Monck  had  called  up  one  evening,  and  Mrs.  Wilson 
announced  the  fact  to  him  in  the  presence  of  her  husband. 
"  We  have  named  our  second  darling  after  you,  Marion,  and 


VIGOR.  393 

the  young  gentleman's  name  is  Marion  Monck  Wilson.  We  are 
not  unmindful  that  we  owe  our  happiness  to  you.  Had  it  not 
been  through  your  instrumentality  I  had  never  known  my  pre- 
sent lord,  and  I  am  grateful,  Marion.  We  only  wish  that  you 
could  point  out  to  us  some  way  in  which  we  could  really  be 
useful  to  you.  We  desire  anxiously  to  see  you  settle  down  in 
life.  You  have  sown  all  your  wild  oats.  You  have  a  marked 
capacity  for  business  ;  and  let  me  beg  of  you,  dear  Marion,  to 
think  seriously  of  what  I  say.  You  have  not  two  truer  friends 
in  this  wide  and  wicked  world,  than  Mr.  Wilson  and  myself." 
There  was  feeling  expressed  in  these  few  words  from  the  lips 
of  the  graceful  woman,  which  reminded  Marion  of  old  times, 
and  he  was  affected  deeply.  He  replied, 

"  If  it  would  give  you  any  pleasure  to  see  me  settled,  I  can 
only  wish  that  I  was  in  a  regular  business.  I  hope  soon  to  be. 
The  Count  Falsechinski  has  hinted  to  me  an  arrangement,  by 
which  I  shall  soon  have  a  partner,  with  plenty  of  cash  capital. 
Lam  under  a  promise  not  to  mention  any  names,  or  I  would 
tell  you  more." 

"  That  is  good  news.  The  Count  is  in  a  situation  to  make 
good  any  promise  that  he  gives,"  said  Wilson. 

"  Are  you  aware,  Marion,  that  we  are  going  to  move  into 
the  country  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Wilson. 

"  Indeed  I  was  not.  To  what  part  of  the  country  are  you 
going  ?" 

"  To  the  Connecticut  village  where  I  staid  during  the  chole- 
ra year.  We  are  not  going  to  break  up  in  town.  You  remem- 
ber my  aunt,  Mrs.  Ferguson,  in  Charleston — of  course  you  do  ; 
we  have  written  her  to  come  on  and  make  a  permanent  home 
with  us.  She  will  keep  the  house  in  the  city,  and  we  shall 
only  be  absent  during  the  hot  summer  months.  It  is  better 
for  the  children.  Poor  boys,  I  cannot  bear  to  have  them 
cooped  up  in  town,  when  there  is  fresh  and  pure  air  to  be  had 
by  a  short  journey." 

When  Murion  made  these  visits  he  was  asked  all  sorts  of 
questions  about  those  persons  they  had  mutually  known,  and 
in  this  manner  an  evening  passed  very  quickly  and  happily  to 
all  parties. 

"  Come  oftener,  Marion,"  would  be  added  by  the  lady  in  the 
kindest  manner  when  he  was  leaving,  and  he  would  make  up 
his  mind  that  his  visits  to  this  delightful  family  should  hence- 
forth be  more  frequent.  But  something  always  turned  up  to 
prevent  it.  He  was  literally  very  busy — doing  nothing.  He 
wrote  occasionally,  and  he  idled  still  more,  but  his  mind  was 

17* 


394  VIGOR. 

constantly  employed.  He  would  sometimes  go  to  an  old  haunt 
and  remain  there  for  hours,  drinking  a  solitary  glass,  and  then 
he  would  dream  out  a  thousand  beautiful  thoughts  and  fancies. 
He  thought  much,  and  though  he  had  no  definite  plan  but  to 
pass  away  the  time,  and  the  stimulus  he  drank  helped  out  his 
ideas  and  thoughts,  yet  he  never  wrote  them  down.  He  thought 
them,  and  they  pleased  him,  and  were  stowed  away  for  use  in 
after  years.  In  these  places  he  saw  life.  He  listened  to  the 
conversation  of  others  without  mixing  in  it,  and  whether  these 
conversations  related  to  a  dog  fight  or  a  rise  in  cotton,  he 
gleaned  information. 

Sometimes  he  visited  drinking  places  where  the  worst  of 
the  male  sex  congregated,  and  often  had  he  volunteered  to 
keep  the  slate  when  a  lot  of  thieves  were  raming  for  the  first 
chances  in  the  fruits  of  joint  robberies.  He  was  thanked,  ne- 
ver molested,  and  often  invited  to  drink.  The  slang  language 
of  these  people,  and  their  motives  of  conduct,  amused  him. 
When  he  had  a  few  spare  dollars  he  would  go  to  a  new  spot, 
where  poor  broken-down  drunkards  congregated,  men  who  had 
not  a  copper  towards  paying  for  a  three  cent  drink.  Here  he 
would  pick  up  and  stow  away  in  his  iron  memory  any  quantity 
of  useful  information.  He  would  treat,  and  treat,  the  strange 
crew  until  his  funds  were  exhausted,  and  the  men  themselves 
wondered  at  such  folly  and  extravagance.  But  he  gained  his 
point.  He  was  deeper  into  the  mysteries  of  life  after  all  such 
night  expeditions. 

One  lovely  April  morning,  Marion  Monck  was  passing  up 
Nassau  street,  when  he  was  met  by  the  editor  of  the  Herald. 
The  latter  asked  in  his  hasty  manner, 

"  Well,  are  you  doing  any  thing  ?" 

"  Nothing  in  particular." 

"  Will  you  go  South  for  me  ?"  asked  the  editor. 

"  What  to  do  ?"  asked  Marion. 

"  I  wish  you  to  travel  through  the  Southern  States,  or  at 
least  to  spend  the  summer  months  in  your  native  State,  South 
Carolina,  and  write  me  a  series  of  letters  giving  me  all  sorts 
of  information — its  agriculture,  manufactures,  society,  scenery, 
great  men  and  little  men  ;  in  fact,  about  every  thing  ;  will 
you  go  ?" 

"  I  will  :  when  do  you  wish  me  to  start?"  asked  Marion. 

"  At  once.  Come  up  to  the  office  and  I  will  give  you  funds. 
Leave  to  day  if  you  can,  and  go  by  the  land  route  to  Charles- 
ton. From  that  point  I  wish  you  to  commence  writing  me 
letters,"  said  the  editor. 


VIGOR.  395 

"  I  will  be  ready  in  an  hour,  and  will  then  come  to  your  of- 
fice," replied  Marion. 

"  Good  morning — that  will  do,"   and  they  parted. 

Marion  went  at  once  to  his  boarding  house,  packed  his 
trunk,  paid  his  bill,  and  made  arrangements  that  his  trunk 
should  be  sent  to  the  Philadelphia  depot  at  five  o'clock. 

An  hour  after  he  was  at  the  Herald  office,  received  the  ne- 
cessary funds  from  Mr.  Bennett  for  his  journey,  and  general 
instructions  as  to  what  he  was  to  do,  and  then  bade  him  fare- 
well. 

Marion  Monck  was  delighted  with  the  prospect  of  leaving 
New  York ;  he  was  sick  of  the  city,  and  beside  the  prospect  of 
several  months  to  be  passed  away  in  pleasant  travel,  he  was 
to  see  his  parents  onoe  more,  after  an  absence  of  many  years. 
He  did  not  bid  any  one  good  bye,  but  wrote  a  note  to  Count 
Falsechinski,  and  another 'to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson,  informing 
them  of  his  purpose. 

The  journey  was  a  pleasant  one,  passing  through  Philadel- 
phia, Baltimore,  Washington,  Richmond,  and  Wilmington, 
North  Carolina,  by  land,  and  thence  to  Charleston  by  steamboat. 
He  reached  Charleston  the  fourth  day  after  leaving  New  York. 
The  next  day  he  went  up  to  the  residence  of  his  parents  at 
Monck's  Corners.  To  give  any  idea  of  the  reception  he  met 
with  there  would  vastly  exceed  our  limits.  He  found  his  pa- 
rents and  aunty  older,  but  still  hale  and  hearty,  and  in  the 
most  independent  circumstances.  He  did  not  leave  his  home 
for  two  weeks,  and  then  he  returned  to  Charleston,  and  com- 
menced writing  letters  to  the  Herald.  These  letters  made  a 
sensation  at  the  time.  They  were  all  signed  "  Commissioner," 
and  dated  Charleston,  Augusta,  Columbia,  Camden,  Green- 
ville, Sparta,  Glen  Springs,  Unionville,  Wiusboro',  Caesar's 
Head,  Flat  Rock,  and  other  points  of  interest  in  the  State,  not 
excepting  Fort  Hill,  near  Pendleton,  the  residence  and  home 
of  the  great  Calhoun.  There  Marion  spent  two  months,  for  he 
was  an  especial  favorite  of  the  great  statesman.  These  letters 
can  all  be  found  in  old  files  of  the  Herald.  There  were  six 
published  in  the  London  Herald,  written  by  "  Commissioner," 
who  was  Marion  Monck,  and  who  wrote  these  letters  as  flyers. 
The  series,  if  collected  and  bound  in  a  volume,  would  have  a 
great  run,  for  it  is  now  no  secret,  that  in  writing  these  letters 
Marion  had  assistance  from  the  highest  source  in  the  State. 
Mr.  Calhoun  himself  furnished  most  of  the  ideas,  (and  some 
were  brilliant.)  for  these  Southern  letters. 

While  a  resident  at  Mr.  Calhoun's  mansion,  Marion  Monck 


396  VIGOR. 

became  acquainted  with  a  lady  and  her  daughter  who  were  up 
on  a  visit  to  the  great  statesman's  family, — in  fact  were  dis- 
tantly related.  The  young  girl  was  not  twelve  years  of  age, 
and  a  regular  wild  one.  She  would  ride  with  ease  the  most 
skittish  horse  on  Mr.  Calhoun's  plantation,  and  would  drive 
into  Pendleton  and  back  again  in  a  buggy,  with  perfect  safety. 
When  she  rode  about  the  place,  or  visited  any  of  the  neigh- 
bors, she  rarely  troubled  the  negroes  to  open  gates  for  her, 
but  made  her  horse  leap  the  various  fences. 

"  That  torn-boy  will  break  her  neck,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cal- 
houn,  on  one  occasion,  as  "  Cara  "  came  full  tilt  with  her  horse 
over  the  fence  of  the  door  yard.  Mr.  Calhoun  was  also  on  the 
piazza  of  his  residence,  standing  by  the  side  of  his  wife,  and 
was  a  witness  to  the  feat. 

"  Don't  call  her  torn-boy.  It  is  not  a  proper  title.  I  like  to 
see  it.  Cara  by  such  exercises  is  developing  her  physical 
powers,  and  one  day  will  be  able  to  become  such  a  wife  and 
mother  as  God  intended  women  to  be.  There  is  no  weak, 
sickly  effeminacy  about  her,  engendered  by  being  shut  up  in 
a  parlor,  without  pure  air  or  healthy  exercise.  I  like  to  see 
a  girl  educated  in  that  manner.  It  is  an  education  worth  more 
to  her  and  to  society  than  it  is  even  to  be  able  to  read  and 
write,  if  she  could  not  have  both  physical  and  mental  educa- 
tion." 

Marion  listened  with  interest  to  these  remarks  about  a  little 
girl  that  he  escorted  to  various  places,  leading  her  by  the 
hand.  These  remarks  probably  led  him  in  after  years,  when 
Mr.  Calhoun  had  descended  to  the  tomb,  to  make  this  ci-devant 
little  girl  "  Cara  "  Mrs.  Mouck.  But  we  are  getting  on  too 
fast  with  our  story. 

It  was  late  in  October  before  Marion  Monck  had  finished  the 
tour  of  South  Carolina.  Then  he  returned  to  Monck's  Cor- 
ners, and  spent  another  happy  month  svith  his  parents.  His 
father  was  extremely  anxious  that  he  should  give  up  New  York 
and  remain  at  home. 

"  You  have  seen  the  world,  my  son.  Why  not  now  settle 
down  and  live  at  home  ?  We  are  not  rich,  but  we  have  every 
comfort  that  a  reasonable  young  man  can  desire.  Where  else 
can  you  find  more  substantial  happiness  ?" 

It  was  all  in  vain.  Marion's  mind  was  made  up,  and  no  in- 
ducement held  out  by  his  father  could  persuade  him  to  give 
up  for  a  moment  his  long  dream  of  ambition,  which  was  to  suc- 
ceed as  a  merchant  in  New  York. 


VIGOR.  397 

"  I  will  make  a  spoon  or  spoil  a  horn  in  that  city,"  was  Ma- 
rion's quiet  rejoinder,  quoting  a  favorite  axiom  of  his  father. 

"  You  say,  Marion,  that  you*  desire  to  go  into  business  in 
New  York.  Let  mother  and  I  make  up  what  capital  you  need. 
By  selling  cattle  and  stock  of  various  kinds,  and  adding  to  it 
some  bank  stock  that  we  have  put  by,  we  could  give  you  some 
seven  or  eight  thousand  dollars,  and  not  miss  it  much  if  you 
were  to  lose  it  all,"  said  his  father. 

"  God  bless  you,  dear  father.  I  would  not  touch  your  hard 
earnings  if  it  was  to  be  the  means  of  making  me  as  rich  as  all 
the  Ravenels  and  old  Wade  Hamptons  to  boot.  No — don't  say 
a  word  about  it.  I  shall  not  starve  in  New  York,  and  I  may 
succeed,"  said  Marion. 

"  And  if  you  do  succeed,  my  son,  what  does  it  all  amount 
to  ?  You  can't  eat  any  more — you  can't  drink  any  more — you 
can't  sleep  any  more,  if  you  succeed,  as  you  call  it,  and  get  to 
be  worth  millions,  than  you  can  up  here  at  Monck's  Corners 
in  our  own  comfortable  homestead,  which  will  be  all  yours 
when  we  die.  Besides,  there  is  no  such  hunting  in  New  York 
city  as  here.  There  are  no  such  deer — there  are  no  such  wild 
turkeys  ;  and  you  can  catch  more  fish  in  the  Santee  Canal  and 
Biggin  Creek  in  half  an  hour  than  you  can  catch  in  the  New 
York  waters  in  a  week,"  exclaimed  the  honest  old  father. 

Marion  laughed  and  replied,  "  True  as  gospel,  my  dear  fa- 
ther ;  and  you  might  have  added,  there  are  no  such  live  oaks 
in  any  New  York  door-yard  as  there  are  about  this  house — no 
such  magnificent  forests,  and  all  that.  Still  I  must  try  my 
luck  in  the  city  for  a  while  longer.  I  should  stagnate  here — 
die  from  actual  want  of  something  to  do." 

"  A  wilful  man  will  have  his  way,"  replied  the  elder  Monck, 
and  left  Marion,  while  he  went  to  look  after  his  horses. 

The  mother,  who  loved  her  son  devotedly,  was  equally  un- 
successful in  her  endeavors  to  persuade  him  to  give  up  New 
.York,  and  settle  at  Monck's  Corners.  When  the  time  came  for 
his  departure,  both  parents  accompanied  him  to  Charleston, 
and  did  not  return  to  Monck's  Corners  until  Marion  had  sailed 
for  New  York. 

While  in  Charleston,  Marion  called  ou  his  early  friend  Mrs. 
Ferguson.  She  was  delighted  to  soe  him  once  more,  and  he 
expressed  his  gratitude  for  the  success  which  her  letter  of  in- 
troduction many  years  previous  had  brought  to  him.  The 
good  lady  said, 

"  I  have  sold  out  everything,  and  am  ready  to  go  to  New 
York  to  live  with  Bessy.  She  has  written  for  me>" 


398  VIGOR. 

"  So  she  told  me  before  I  left  New  York.  In  fact,  I  had  no 
idea  that  I  should  find  you  here.  Why  not  go  on  to  New  York 
with  me  ?"  said  Marion. 

"  I  certainly  will  do  so  if  you  will  take  charge  of  me,"  was 
the  reply  of  the  worthy  landlady. 

It  was  so  arranged,  and  Marion  secured  a  passage  for  Mrs. 
Ferguson  on  board  the  ship  Saluda.  They  had  a  pleasant  pas- 
sage to  New  York,  and  when  the  ship  reached  the  dock  Marion 
hired  a  carriage,  and  conveyed  the  lady  to  the  residence  of 
Mrs.  Wilson,  her  niece.  He  remained  only  long  enough  to 
shake  hands,  and  then  went  to  the  Herald  office,  where  he 
found  Mr.  Bennett.  He  was  cordially  received. 

"  Capital  letters  you  sent  me.  1  published  every  one  of 
them.  They  were  very  interesting,"  observed  the  editor. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  they  pleased  you.  I  should  have  sent 
you  more,  but  I  was  detained  several  weeks  at  Mr.  Calhoun's 
residence,"  added  Marion. 

"  I  am  not  disappointed.  What  money  have  you  received 
while  you  were  absent  ?" 

"  Just  enough  to  pay  my  current  expenses.  I  have  not 
been  very  extravagant,"  replied  Marion. 

Mr.  Bennett  took  a  slip  of  paper,  wrote  a  few  words  upon 
it,  and  handed  it  to  Marion,  observing,  at  the  same  time,  "How 
would  you  like  to  go  to  Washington  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  at  present.  I  have  to  see  a  person,  and  then 
I  will  tell  you,"  replied  Marion. 

"  Very  well.  Call  upon  me  when  your  mind  is  made  up," 
said  Mr.  Bennett,  and  Marion  left  him  to  go  with  the  slip  of 
paper  to  the  cashier.  It  was  for  three  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars. When  Marion  had  pocketed  the  money,  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  Well,  that  is  not  bad,  considering  that  I  have  had  some 
fun.  In  fact,  I  did  not  expect  to  receive  a  cent,  and  am  rather 
surprised  at  the  liberal  amount.  The  fifty  must  answer  my 
needs,  and  so  I  will  invest  the  three  hundred  in  a  check  on 
Charleston." 

He  went  at  once  to  the  office  of  Spofford  &  Tileston,  large 
merchants  engaged  in  the  cotton  trade.  There  he  bought  a 
draft  on  Charleston  for  three  hundred  dollars,  made  payable 
to  "Henry  Monck,"  or  ^>rder.  When  Mr.  Tileston  saw  the 
name,  he  asked  Marion  if  he  was  not  the  author  of  the  letters 
from  the  South  signed  "  Commissioner  ?"  Marion  hesitated 
before  he  gave  a  reply. 

"  Mr.  Bennett  told  me  so,"  added  Mr.  Tileston. 


VIGOR.  399 

"  Then  I  shall  not  deny  it,  if  that  is  the  case.  I  did  write 
the  letters,"  said  Marion. 

"  And  extremely  interesting  they  were.  I  am  glad  to  meet 
with  you,"  said  the  merchant. 

When  Marion  took  his  leave  he  went  up  to  his  old  Spanish 
boarding-house,  and  re-took  his  room.  His  prelty  senorita 
friends  Inez  and  Isabella  were  delighted  to  see  him,  and  he 
was  glad  to  see  them.  He  at  once  wrote  a  letter  to  his  father, 
after  the  following  fashion  : 

"  NEW  YORK,  Dec.  1,  18—. 

'•  My  Dear  Father  — 

"  I  am  safe  bf>ck  in  the  great  city  that  you  so  honestly  detest.  I  was 
agreeably  surprised  on  my  arrival  to  find  that  my  Southern  letters  have 
proved  to  be  worth  three  nundred  and  fifty  dollars.  The  fifty  dollars  I 
shall  spend — the  three  hundred  dollars  I  do  not  need.  When  I  was  last 
with  vou,  I  noticed  that  you  were  very  anxious  to  own  the  magnificent 
stallion  "  Santee."  belonging  to  your  friend  Schopman.  The  price  asked 
was  three  hundred  dollars.  The  enclosed  order  will  just  pay  for  that 
horse,  and  I  beg  you  will  consider  it  a  gift  from  your  affectionate  son. 
Give  my  love  to  mother  and  to  aunt  Mary,  and  give  a  pound  of  tobacco  to 
Mann,  Phillis.  and  Daddy  Jemmy  respectively.  They  will  appreciate  to- 
bacco more  than  a  love  message.  »iour  affectionate  son, 

"  MARIOX  MONCK." 

When  Marion  had  finished  this  document,  he  inclosed  the 
draft  in  it,  and  then  mailed  it  himself  at  the  post-office.  Then 
he  went  up  town,  where  he  met  a  friend  whs  told  him  that  he 
had  been  earnestly  -sought  after  by  the  Count  Falsechinski. 
So  Marion  left  a  card  at  the  residence  of  Mr.  Grasper,  for  the 
Count  was  not  at  home  when  he  called.  Then  he  went  around 
town  to  places  where  he  was  known,  and  at  a  late  hour  returned 
to  his  boarding-house. 


CHAPTER    LXIII. 

TJ>f  Count  Falsechinskft  Position — Scenp  at  Breakfast — Meets  Walter  Gran- 
ville — Scene  with  Clara  Norris — Pitt  Granville  becomes  insane,  and  is  taken 
to  the  Bloomingdale  Asylum. 

FEW  persons  could  be  found  who  appeared  to  enjoy  life  and 
his  position  with  more  satisfaction  than  the  Count  Adolph 
Falsechinski.  Every  thing  that  he  had  meddled  with  had 
turned  out  successfully  from  the  moment  he  met  Marion 
Monck.  If  he  gambled,  he  became  a  heavy  winner.  He 
sought  a  clerkship,  and  it  gave  him  habits  of  business,  and  a 
position  ;  he  taught  languages,  and  he  made  money  and  valuable 


400  VIGOR. 

acquaintances;  lie  speculated  in  stocks  and  doubled  his  mo- 
ney— in  real  estate,  and  it  brought  him  a  fortune.  He  mar- 
ried, and  obtained  beauty,  dignity,  rich  relations,  and  a  large 
amount  of  cash  ;  and  even  while  these  successes  were  being 
achieved  by  his  own  diligence  and  exertions,  his  patriotic  bro- 
ther died,  leaving  hiijj  the  head  of  an  old  noble  family  in  Po- 
land ;  and  a  slight  fine  restored  to  him  his  title  of  Count,  and 
the  estates  unincumbered. 

After  his  marriage  with  Miss  Grasper,  the  Count  travelled 
with  his  bride  for  several  weeks.  .On  their  return  to  the  city 
they  made  their  residence  at  the  granite  palace  of  Mr.  Grasper. 
The  Count  had  won  the  heart  of  the  old  gentleman,  who  be- 
came more  pleased  with  the  match  as  he  became  better  ac- 
quainted with  the  sterling  qualities  of  his  son-in-law.  The 
Countess  became  devotedly  attached  to  her  husband  ;  he  was 
kind  and  attentive,  and  his  devotion  did  not  end  with  the  ho- 
neymoon— he  commanded  respect  wherever  he  went,  and  every 
hour's  intimacy  taught  the  bride  to  respect  more  and  more  her 
lord  and  master. 

Over  the  mind  of  Francis  Grasper,  his  brother-in-law,  the 
Count  was  not  long  in  obtaining  a  complete  mastery.  The 
former  admired  thfe  latter  as  much  as  one  man  could  possibly 
admire  another,  and  was  pleased  to  have  him  for  his  relative. 
He  made  his  sister  happy,  and  what  more  could  be  desired  ? 

"  Frank,  I  wish  you  to  go  and  dine  with  me  to-day  where  we 
can  be  alone  by  ourselves,"  said  the  Count  one  morning,  when 
all  were  assembled  at  breakfast. 

"  Nothing  would  give  me  more  pleasure  ;  when  and  where 
shall  it  be  ?" 

"  At  Delmonico's,  time  three  o'clock,"  and  turning  to  the 
old  gentleman,  he  added,  "  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Grasper,  I  have  a 
place  for  Frank  which  I  think  he  will  like,  and  after  I  have 
made  sure  of  it  by  a  private  conversation  with  him,  I  will  ex- 
plain the  matter  to  you.  I  detest  seeing  a  fine  young  fellow 
like  Frank,  although  he  may  come  into  a  fortune  some  day, 
without  any  visible  means  of  exertion.  I  should  like  to  see 
him  employed — useful,  doing  something." 

'•  Count,  you  have  hit  my  ideas  precisely.  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  would  like  to  have  Frank  do  something  for  himself — he 
is  quite  old  enough  to  settle  down.  If  you  can  arrange  it,  you 
will  oblige  me  very  much." 

"  Then  do  not  forget  your  own  appointment,  Frank  ; — and 
now  I  must  leave  you." 

With  this  sudden  closing,  the  Count  passed  into  the    street 


VIGOR.  401 

and  wended  his  way  down  town,  stopping  at  Centre  street,  in 
the  hope  of  meeting  Marion  or  of  learning  his  whereabouts. 
Although  he  did  not  find  Marion,  he  discovered  a  person  whom 
he  remembered  very  well,  notwithstanding  his  features  were 
altered.  It  was  Walter  Granville,  smoking  a  cigar  and  drink- 
ing a  glass  of  hot  toddy.  Somewhat  fiercely  he  addressed  the 
Count. 

"  Well,  Count,  you  have  got  up  a  little  higher  in  the  world 
than  when  I  first  knew  you.  Then  I  believe  you  taught  lan- 
guages ?" 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  my  profession,  when  I 
had  the  honor  to  teach  a  lady  who  is  now  I  believe  Mrs.  Wal- 
ter Granville,"  and  the  Count  bowed. 

"  Yes,  you  did  teach  my  wife,  and  I  am  much  obliged  to 
you.  A  good  many  of  our  old  friends  have  stepped  out  since 
I  first  met  you." 

"  Colonel  Mac  Neil  is  dead — Mr.  Nordheim  is  dead — your 
uncle  Thomas  is  dead.  Yes,  we  all  have  to  die.  Have  you 
seen  your  father  ?" 

"  No,  I  have  not ;  he  does  not  trouble  his  head  about  me, 
and  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  fret  about  him.  They  say 
you  are  rich,  Count.  Is  it  so  ?"  a?ked  the  young  man. 

"  I  am  not  poor,  and  I  am  not  ashamed  under  my  altered 
circumstances,  to  say  I  -gas  once  very  poor.  Can  I  be  of  any 
service  to  you,  Mr.  VValter  ?" 

"  Not  a  bit,  not  a  particle-— I  can  steer  my  own  canoe  :  will 
you  take  a  drink  ?" 

"  Excuse  me,  I  rarely  drink  in  the  morning,  and  I  must 
hurry  down  town  ;  good  morning,  sir,"  and  with  these  few 
words  the  Count  took  his  departure. 

"  That  is  a  proud,  haughty  cuss  ;  he  was  once  humble 
enough,  but  he  has  pluck  and  I  like  him.  I  wish  my  old  gov- 
ernor would  kick  the  bucket,  and  then  I  would  hold  up  my 
head  as  high  as  any  of  them,"  muttered  the  son  to  himself  after 
the  Count's  departure.  "  Jemmy,  give  me  another  drink.  I 
wonder  what  the  devil  keeps  Harry  away  so  long.  Sure  he 
has  not  been  here,  eh  ?" 

"  I  am  certain  he  has  not  been  here,  and  he  will  probably  be 
along  soon.  Who  was  your  friend  that  just  went  out  1"  asked 
the  bar  tender. 

"  That  is  a  real  live  Count — the  Count  Falsechinski — and  he 
has  got  the  brads,  too,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  saw  him  give  Colonel  Mac  Neil  a  hundred  dollars  one 
day — it  was  just  before  the  Colonel  died,''  said  Jemmy. 


402  VIGOR. 


"  The  deuce  you  did — why,  what  claim  had  the  Colonel  on 
the  Count  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  but  the  fact  is  as  I  tell  you.  There  is  your 
friend  Robinson." 

At  this  moment  Henry  Robinson  entered  the  store  from  the 
rear,  and  without  a  word  took  a  chair  and  seated  himself  by 
Walter  Granville. 

"  What  the  old  Nick  makes  you  look  so  moody — any  thing 
gone  wrong  ?"  inquired  Walter. 

"  Yes,  every  thing  seems  to  me  wrong.  I  have  just  called 
on  your  wife.  I  am  getting  too  much  in  her  debt.  It  is  a 
shame,  but  I  can't  help  it.  Rose,  poor  thing,  is  an  awful 
expense,  but  she  can't  help  it.  I  was  obliged  to  get  funds 
from  Mrs.  Granville  this  morning." 

"  Well,  that  is  all  right.  Did  she  shell  out  freely,  or  hesi- 
tate ?"  asked  Walter. 

"  Not  in  the  least,  and  I  do  not  like  riding  a  free  horse  to 
death,  when  I  have  rich  relatives  of  my  own.  I  told  Mrs. 
Granville  so  this  morning,  and  asked  her  advice.  She  gave 
me  a  plan  to  work  upon,  and  curse  me  if  I  don't  try  it  on.  I 
am  going  to  have  an  interview  with  my  parents — what  do  you 
think  of  that?" 

"  If  Clara — my  wife,  I  mean — has  suggested  a  plan,  it  is  a 
good  one.  She  is  clever.  What  a*  infernal  shame  that  such 

a  woman  should  ever  have  been  a Blame    il,    I   cannot 

pronounce  the  word  when  I  am  speaking  of  my  own  wife.  But 
she  is  honest  now,  and  the  old  devil  we  live  with  ! — a'nt  she  a 
.sanctified  old  sinner  ?  don't  mention  it,"  said  Walter. 

"  I  shall  try  the  plan,  and  if  it  succeeds  you  shall  know  all 
about  it.  If  it  does  not,  there  is  no  harm  done.  Answer  me 
one  question.  Do  you  think  Rose  would  pass  for  a  Spanish 
girl  ?" 

"  Blame  me  if  I  don't  think  she  would.  If  she  only  spoke 
Spanish  you  could  not  tell  her  from  a  genuine  pretty  senorita 
— black  hair  and  eyes,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

These  two  young  men  continued  together  for  some  hours, 
drinking  and  smoking,  until  Walter  was  "  pretty  tight." 

"  Harry,  I  shall  not  see  you  very  often  after  this.  I  think 
you  will  get  all  right  with  your  parents — if  so,  the  less  you 
see  of  me  the  better,  and  the  less  Rose  has  to  do  with  Clara 
the  better.  In  fact,  old  fellow,  don't  think  hard  of  me  if  I 
should  soon  be  among  the  missing.  This  getting  money  from 
a  woman  as  I  do,  is  not  the  thing  for  me.  i  shall  cut  it  before 


VIGOR.  403 


. 

a  great  while,  and  then  I  am  off  to  sea  again.     I  like  indepen- 
dence." 

"  But  your  wife — what  will  she  do  ?" 

"  She  be  blamed.  She  has  always  taken  care  of  herself 
without  me,  and  can  do  it  again.  Not  a  word  about  what  I 
have  said  to  you,  to  her,"  observed  Walter  Gran ville. 

He  parted  with  Robinson  at  the  door  of.  the  grog-shop,  and 
went  at  once  to  his  wife's  apartment  in  Bond  street.  When 
he  entered  the  room,  he  flung  himself  upon  the  sofa,  saying, 
"  How  are  you,  <Clara  ?  All  alone,  eh  ?  That  is  right." 

"  Beast,"  was  hissed  through  the  lady's  teeth,  and  then  she 
continued,  "  Walter  Granville,  you  are  drunk  again.  In  fact, 
it  is  nothing  but  drunk  from  morning  until  night.  I  will  put 
up  with  it  no  longer.  Either  stop  it  or  quit,"  said  Clara, 
firmly. 

"  Quit — that's  the  word,  is  it  ?"  Walter  raised  himself  upon 
the  sofa.  Then  he  sat  up.  "  Quit — is  it  to  be  ?  You  infer- 
nal wicked  prostitute.  Your  acts  have  inveigled  me  into  a 
marriage,  and  now  because  I  don't  please  you — because  I  try 
to  drown  my  degradation  in  drink,  you  want  to  cry  '  quit,'  " — 
and  as  he  said  this  he  sprung  at  her,  and  closing  his  Rands 
about  her  neck,  he  choked  her  until  he  himself  got  scared,  for 
when  he  removed  his  hands  she  sank  down  upon  the  sofa  with- 
out sense  or  motion.  He  stepped  to  the  washstand,  seized  a 
jug  of  water,  and  threw  the  entire  contents  ove"r  her  person, 
drenching  her  completely.  "  Now  live  or  die,  curse  you.  I 
don't  care  which.  I  ought  to  kill  you,  and  rid  the  world  of  a 
female  devil.  Would  to  God  I  had  never  seen  you,  and  I 
hope  that  to-night  is  the  last  that  I  shall  spend  within  a  thou- 
sand miles  of  you.  You  are  getting  around  again,  eh  ?"  ex- 
claimed Walter. 

Clara  opened  her  eyes  and  gazed  at  him.  "  Walter,  I  did 
not  expect  this  from  you.  You  hurt  me  cruelly,"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Did  I  ?  It  will  do  you  good — teach  you  to  keep  a  civil 
tongue  in  your  head,  for  it  is  a  bit  of  a  foretaste  of  what  I  will 
do  with  you  if  ever  I  put  my  hands  about  you  again  in  real 
anger.  I  would  choke  you  as  I  would  a  bad  hen.  You  spoke 
of  parting.  I  am  ready.  What  have  you  got  to  say  to  it  ?" 
asked  Walter. 

"  I  was  only  vexed  for  a  moment,  dear  Walter.  I  did  not 
mean  to  hurt  your  feelings.  You  know  I  love  you,  and  have 
tried  to  be  a  good  faithful  wife  to  you,"  said  Clara,  weeping. 

"  Oh,  fol-de-rol,  I  say.     I  am  going  in  earnest,  old  gal,   and 


404  VIGOR. 

it's  no  use  talking.  If  you  have  got  any  spare  change,  give  it 
to  me,  for  I  shall  never  ask  you  again.  I  am  going  to  be  in- 
dependent, if  I  ain't  any  thing  else,"  continued  Walter. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Mrs.  Granville  remonstrated,  begged,  and 
even  prayed  Walter  to  remain.  Threaten  him,  she  dare  not 
do,  after  the  experience  she  had  Lad  of  his  choking  propensi- 
ties. She  handed  him  her  purse.  He  took  from  it  a  few  dol- 
lars, and  handed  the  rest  back  to  her. 

"  I  want  a  rig  and  enough  to  carry  me  to  Alexandria.  Them 
I  am  going  to  ship  before  the  mast  in  a  vessel  bound  round  the 
Horn.  That  is  between  you  and  me.  The  fact  is,  you  will 
hear  of  my  death  in  about  a  fortnight.  Then  you  can  play  the 
gay  widow,  and  no  fear  of  my  ever  turning  up  again.  I  will 
do  you  that  justice,  for  ever  I  do  come  this  way,  it  will  be 
years  hence,  and  under  some  assumed  name.  Keep  up  a  stout 
heart.  It's  no  use  talking,  Clara.  It  has  got  to  be  as  I  have 
said.  You  are  tired  of  me.  I  am  tired  of  you.  That  is  hon- 
est. If  I  stay  here,  all  your  money  won't  keep  me  from  a 
drunkard's  death.  It  will  force  it  on  me.  Now  let  us  part 
friends,"  said  Walter. 

CJara  Norris  was,  for  once  in  her  life,  affected.  She  knew 
the  determined  will  of  Walter  Granville.  She  knew  that  she 
should  see  him  no  more — that  he  was  going  to  sea  on  a  long 
voyage.  She  burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,  Walter,  I  cannot  bear  this.  Do  not  go,  or  take  me 
with  you." 

"  Nonsense.  Now  mark  my  words.  You  will  see  my  death 
in  the  papers  before  long.  I  w;>nt  to  be  dead  to  all  here.  But 
I  tell  you  there  will  not  be  a  word  of  truth  in  it.  I  shall  con- 
tinue to  live  under  some  assumed  name.  Now  good-bye.  No 
nonsense."  Saying  this  he  kissed  her,  and  was  about  to  leave 
when  he  seemed  to  remember  something.  He  then  said, 
"  Clara,  if  you  have  one  tender  spot  for  poor  Walter,  and  want 
to  do  me  a  kindness,  lend  a  helping  hand  to  Harry  Robinson 
and  Rose," — and  before  she  could  reply  he  was  out  of  the 
room,  down  the  stairs,  and  in  the  street.  Wha,t  direction  he 
took  after  leaving  her,  she  never  heard. 

More  than  a  fortnight  elapsed  before  she  heard  any  more  of 
him.  Then  a( notice  appeared  in  the  morning  paper,  copied 
from  a  Philadelphia  paper.  It  was  as  follows  : 

"  Walter  Granville,  a  sailor  on  board  the  ship  Liberty,  was  lost  over- 
ooard  on  the  17th  inst.  The  ship  was  dropping  down  the  river,  and  had 
anchored  near  Wilmington.  The  body  was  not  recovered.  The  young 
sailor  was  a  son  of  Mr.  Pitt  Granville,  an  eminent  New  York  merchant." 


*• 


VIGOR.  405 

Clara  read  and  re-read  the  article.  "  He  has  complied  with 
a  part  of  his  promise.  I  suppose  he  went  ashore  at  Wilming- 
ton, and  then  proceeded  on  to  Alexandria  by  railroad,"  slie 
thought  aloud.  But  there  was  one  house  in  which  that  article 
was  read  where  its  effects  were  fearful.  It  reached  No.  9 
State  street,  and  was  read  by  W.  Pitt  Granville.  He  at  once 
screamed  with  laughter.  Then  he  called  the  rest  of  the  fam- 
ily. Read  the  announcement  of  his  son's  death,  making,  at  the 
same  time,  the  most  ludicrous  grimaces.  He  said  it  was  "  fun- 
ny," "  rare  sport,"  "  Walter  was  always  fond  of  swimming," 
"  better  to  be  drowned  than  married."  He  was  not  violent, 
but  his  mind  had  failed — or,  at  least,  had  temporarily  given 
way. 

Colonel  Benson  came,  and  his  son  also.  Mr.  Granville  was 
insane.  There  was  no  question  about  it.  Physicians  were 
called  in.  A  person  was  appointed  to  take  temporary  charge 
of  him,  until  some  permanent  provision  could  be  made  to  euro 
him  if  possible,  or,  at  least,  for  his  safety,  should  his  madness 
assume  a  violent  form. 

It  was  found  that  Mr.  Granville  was,  at  times,  quite  insane, 
and  on  one  of  his  sane  days  he  himself  proposed  that  his  friends 
should  take  him  to  the  Bloomingdale  Asylum.  This  was  event- 
ually done. 


CHAPTER  LXIY. 

Marion  Monck  pays  a  second  visit  to  Mr  0  Doemall,  in  the  Bloomingdale 
Asylum — Curious  Pun  among  Mad  People— Surprising  number  of  He- 
sped'ible  rich  Ptople  in  that  Asylum  -  Arrival  of  Pitt  Granville  at  the 
Institution— Mr.  O'JJoewall  coi/tes  out — Invests  Ms  ten  thousand  dollars, 
and  leaves  New  York — His  Villainies. 

WHEN  Marion  Monck  paid  a  second  visit  to  the  Bloomingdale 
Asylum,  he  found  the  patient,  Mr.  O'Doemall,  quite  convales- 
cent. As  soon  as  he  saw  Marion  approach,  he  shook  his  head 
pleasantly,  and  exclaimed,  "  Ah,  you  precious  fellow,  are  you 
not  ashamed  of  yourself  to  have  trapped  me  into  a  mad  house 
so  nicely.  Country  hotel,  eh  ?" 

"  I  do  not  think  I  could  have  acted  better  for  your  own  good 
than  I  did.  You  were  in  a  shocking  state,  perfectly  incompe- 
tent to  take  care  of  yourself,  and  I  did  precisely  as  I  would 
have  wished  a  real  friend  to  act  for  me.  Are  you  under  any 
restraint  now  ?"  asked  Marion. 


406  VIGOR. 

"  None  whatever.  I  needed  sleep,  and  I  obtained  it  the 
second  night.  What  a  horrible  thing  this  drink  is  !  The 
medical  genius  has  had  to  keep  me  under  lock  and  key  for  two 
days.  Now  tell  me  the  circumstances  under  which  you  brought 
me  here.  I  have  a  faint  recollection  of  them,  but  am  not  clear," 
replied  O'Doemall. 

Marion  related  the  manner  in  which  he  met  O'Doemall  at 
Windust's  cellar,  his  interview  with  Mr.  James,  and  the  re- 
ceipt of  money  ;  and  added,  "  You  seemed  perfectly  cool.  You 
counted  your  money.  Bye-the-by,  I  wish  you  to  relieve  me  of 
further  charge  in  the  matter.  I  received  six  hundred  dollars. 
I  paid  out  hack  hire  ten,  and  three  months'  board  here  for  you 
is  sixty  dollars  more,  and  here  is  five  hundred  and  thirty." 

Here  he  handed  O'Doemall  that  sum,  who  counted  it  delib- 
erately, and  observed, 

"  All  as  right  as  a  twist.  It  is  not  every  man  that  would 
have  acted  in  this  manner,  but  I  flatter  myself,  Mr.  Monck, 
that  I  understand  human  character  pretty  well.  That  Mr. 
James  would  have  robbed  me  of  every  cent  and  cleared  out. 
By-the-by,  where  is  that  precious  chap  ?  I  wish  you  to  answer 
me  another  question.  Does  anybody  beside  you  and  James 
know  that  I  am  here  ?" 

"  Not  a  soul.  James  has  left  New  York  from  some  cause 
or  another,  and  has  gone  over  to  Jersey  He  left  his  address 
in  case  you  wished  to  write  him,  and  told  me  to  tell  you  that 
there  was  an  English  mad  dog  in  New  York,  and  that  you  had 
better  keep  from  being  bit  by  keeping  out  of  the  way,"  said 
Marion. 

"  Ah  yes,  I  understand — the  mad  dog  I  suppose  is  liquor. 
It  has  bit  me,  and  I  will  keep  out  of  the  way.  I  rather  like 
this  place,  and  as  my  board  is  paid,  I  shall  stay  some  weeks, 
or  until  my  nerves  get  so  strong  that  I  can  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  drink.  What  do  you  think  of  it?  It  is  rather  discred- 
itable to  be  in  a  mad  house,  but  as  no  one  of  my  city  friends 
is  aware  that  I  am  here,  my  character  is  safe,  eh  ?"  said  Mr. 
O'Doemall,  who  had  very  powerful  reasons  for  keeping  shady. 
He  deceived  Marion  completely,  and  the  latter  replied  to  him, 

"  The  very  best  thing  that  you  can  do.  Your  business  will 
not  suffer,  and  your  health  will  be  really  benefitted.  I  will  do 
anything  that  1  can  for  you  in  the  city." 

"  Thank  you.  There  is  but  one  thing  you  can  do.  I  wish 
you  to  call  at  Blancard's  Globe  Hotel,  and  ascertain  if  Colonel 
Clairfoot  is  stopping  there.  If  you  find  that  he  is,  or  that  he 
is  in  New  York,  I  want  you  to  ascertain  when  he  leaves  the 


VIGOR.  407 

city  for  Eugland  or  Canada.  I  will  do  as  much  for  you  if  I 
ever  have  the  chance.  In  making  inquiries  about  the  Colonel, 
do  not  let  any  one  know  why  you  ask  about  him,  and  promise 
me  that  you  will  not  cover  me  with  eternal  disgrace  by  letting 
a  soul  know  that  I  am  in  this  mad-pen,  or  in  existence.  Will 
you  promi.se  me  that  much  ?"  asked  O'Doemall. 

"  With  all  my  heart.  Not  a  living  soul  shall  be  aware  that 
you  are  alive,  from  my  lips,"  replied  the  good-natured  and  un- 
suspicious Marion,  who  had  no  idea  that  placing  O'Doemall  in 
the  Asylum  had  saved  his  life  perhaps  in  more  ways  than  one. 
It  certainly  was  a  secure  and  unsuspected  refuge  for  the  guilty 
man  ;  for  Colonel  Clairfoot  had  applied  to  the  police  for  aid  to 
discover  O'Doemall,  and  the  city  had  been  searched  from  one 
end  to  the  other. 

"  What  sort  of  a  time  have  you  had  here  ?  Do  the  keepers 
treat  you  well?"  asked  Marion. 

"  Like  a  prince  ;  and  it  is  the  funniest  institution  on  Man- 
hattan Island.  Of  course  I  am  not  mad,  but  all  these  people 
are  as  mad  as  March  hares,  and  yet  are  unconscious  of  it.  Now 
we  have  all  sorts  of  amusements — a  billiard  table,  a  ninepin 
alley,  and  these  mad  chaps  go  and  have  a  game.  Fancy  my 
going  to  play  ninepins  with  one  of  them  !  I  made  a  match  to 
play  a  '  pony  game.'  It  all  went  on  very  well  for  some  time 
until  I  noticed  that  my  opponent  hesitated.  He  held  in  his 
hand  a  good  sized  pony  ball,  and  his  eyes  began  to  flash  fire. 
'  I  am  Jupiter,  the  Thunderer.  Look  out  for  my  thunder, 
mortal!  and  he  fixed  his  frenzied  eyes  upon  me,  and  lifted  up 
the  pony  menacingly.  You  can  bet  high  that  the  mortal 
sloped,  and  I  ran  out  the  back  way  as  fas-t  as  my  legs  would 
carry  me  ;  but  I  was  chased  for  some  distance  by  Jupiter  the 
Thunderer,  who  let  fly  a  pony  ball  that  whizzed  with  an  inch 
of  my  head.  If  it  had  hit  me,  my  brains  would  have  been 
scattered.  One  of  the  alarm-keepers  heard  the  noise,  and 
Jupiter  was  seized,  made  fast,  and  carried  to  a  private  apart- 
inentj  where  he  might  thunder  as  much  as  he  pleased,  but 
where  his  thunder  could  not  take  the  shape  of  an  iron-wood 
pony  ball. 

"  I  frequently  walk  about  these  beautiful  grounds,  and  en- 
joy the  pure  air.  I  meet  on  such  occasions  both  ladies  and 
gentlemen;  Of  course  they  are  mad,  or  they  would  not  be  here. 
You  are  apt,  however,  to  forget  the  fact.  Yesterday  a  gentle- 
man met  me  in  one  of  my  walks,  and  as  he  came  opposite  to 
me,  he  raised  his  hat  in  the  most  respectful  manner,  observed 
that  it  was  a  fine  day,  arfd  wished  to  know  if  he  could  serve 


408  VIGOR. 

me.  Upon  my  soul  I  took  him'  to  be  one  of  the  physicians  or 
Board  of  Directors,  as  the  latter  frequently  come  here,  and  I 
turned  to  join  him  in  his  walk.  I  asked  him  many  questions, 
and  he  answered  them  all  with  marked  politeness.  He  was  an 
amiable  follow.  Finally  he  asked  me  to  come  and  take  a  seat 
in  an  arbor.  I  complied  ;  andliad  no  sooner  done  so,  than  he 
placed  himself  in  the  open  doorway,  and  asked,  '  Do  you  know 
me  ?'  '  I  suppose  I  do.  You  are  doubtless  one  of  the  Mana- 
gers or  Board  of  Directors.'  He  began  to  regard  me  rather 
more  savagely  than  I  liked,  and  replied,  '  Wrong,  sir.  I  am 
one  of  the  Board  of  Directors  of  Heaven.  I  am  the  archangel 
Gabriel,  and  I  will  scorch  you  up  like  a  feather  with  one  of  my 
wings,  if  you  move  ;'  and  with  this  he  began  to  use  one  of  his 
flippers  like  a  wing.  I  started  to  get  out,  but  he  sprang  upon 
me  like  a  wild-cat,  uttering,  with  a  most  fearful  yell,  '  Wretch 
— you  murdered  my  brother  angel  !'  I  did  get  out — how,  I 
don't  exactly  know  ;  but  I  left  the  archaugel  Gabriel  with  the 
claret  flowing  down  his  face  pretty  freely.  I  am  somewhat 
given  to  pugilism,  and  the  poor  maniac  got  a  sample  of  it.  But 
the  cases  I  have  mentioned,  Mr.  Monck,  are  the  quiet,  gentle 
mad  people.  0,  if  you  want  to  see  the  bad  ones,  go  up  where 
they  chain  them,  and  lock  them  up  in  cells.  You  can  see 
frightful  cases  enough  there,  if  you  wish,"  continued  Mr. 
O'Doemall. 

"  I  have  seen  quite  enough — I  have  no  wish  to  make  a  more 
intimate  acquaintance  with  any  of  the  species  of  madness  ;  but 
can  you  go  out  when  you  please  ?"  asked  Marion. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  are  once  pronounced  sane.  I  could  go 
out  with  you  in  five  minutes,  if  you  wished.  How  do  you  do, 
Mr.  Foster  ?" 

This  was  addressed  to  a  very  gentlemanly  looking  man, 
nearly  sixty  years  old,  who  approached  them.  O'Doemall  in- 
troduced Marion.  The  three  conversed  for  some  time,  and 
then  Mr.  Foster  left  them. 

"  Good  God  1"  said  Marion,  "  I  know  him  well.  Why,  he  is 
a  large  merchant  in  South  street.  Is  it  possible  that  he  is 
mad  ?  Why,  he  has  a  family — keeps  a  carriage,  and  has  a 
pew  in  Dr.  Spring's  church  !" 

"  The  very  same  man,  Mr.  Monck  ;  and  if  he  were  to  give 
you  a  check  at  this  moment  for  twenty  thousand  ^dollars,  it 
would  be  paid  like  winking.  He  is  perfectly  sane  now,"  said 
O'Doemall. 

"  Then  how  in  the  arch  fiend's  nama  does  he  happen  to  be 
here  ?"  asked  Marion. 


VIGOR.  409 

"  Because  he  has  drank  his  wine  at  dinner  for  years.  He 
haa  drank  his  brandy  and  water  of  an  evening,  and  he  is  liable 
to  the  same  tumble  as  meaner  men.  ^Feather  beds  won't  give 
him  sleep  when  his  blood  is  half  alcohol.  As  soon  as  his 
family  perceive  what  is  coming  on,  they  send  him  up  here  for 
a  week  or  a  fortnight,  and  give  out  in  the  city  that  he  is  sick. 
When  he  gets  well,  he  remains  up  here  several  days  longer 
than  is  necessary.  He  is  a  little  ashamed  of  it,  but  will  soon 
get  over  that.  If  he  was  to  kick  the  bucket  up  here,  nothing 
would  be  said  about  it,  and  his  corpse  would  be  sent  down  to 
his  owa  house.  At  this  moment  there  are  thirty  cases  of  de- 
lirium tremens  in  the  Bloomingdale  Asylum  of  men  of  wealth 
and  standing  in  society — professors,  merchants,  lawyers,  judge*, 
and  even  drinking  physicians,  are  cured  temporarily  here.  It 
costs  but  sixty  dollars,  and  a  ride  in  a  hack.  Men  frequently 
come  here  in  their  owa  carriages,  brought  by  their  wives,  sons 
or  brothers,"  said  O'Doemall. 

"  I  am  somewhat  surprised,  I  assure  you.  Can  it  be  true  ?'' 
asked  Marion. 

"  Don't  trust  to  me.  Get  in  with  the  officials  of  the  esta- 
blishment, or  watch  with  your  own  eyes,  and  you  will  meet 
men  here  that  it  would  be  an  honor  to  know  elsewhere.  Poor 
devils  that  drink  and  get  delirious  go  to  the  Tombs,  Alms- 
house  and  Hospital.  The  rich  and  respected  in  society,  who 
can  pay  sixty  dollars  and  not  feel  it,  come  here  to  get  cured, 
and  silence  is  the  watchword  for  all  such  cases." 

The  two  persons  had  now  approached  near  the  wain  en- 
trance, and  Marion  asked  Mr.  O'Doemall  if  ho  had  any  com- 
mands in  town.  The  reply  was  in  the  negative. 

"  I  do  not  want  anybody  living  to  know  that  I  am  here.  I 
am  not  quite  well,  and  I  shall  remain  here  until  my  general 
health  is  completely  restored.  Come  and  see  me  as  often  as 
you  can,  but  do  not  be  surprised  if  I  am  not  out  of  this  for 
some  weeks." 

While  they  were  conversing,  a  carriage,  or  rather  two  car- 
riages, drove  up  to  the  main  gate. 

"  Some  new  customer  for  the  mad-house,"  observed  O'Do- 
emall. 

Neither  spoke  for  some  time,  until  Colonel  Benson  and  his 
son  Middleton  came  out  of  .the  first  carriage. 

"  As  I  live,  there  is  Colonel  Benson,"  said  Marion,  and 
added,  "  I  will  wait,  and  see  who  those  people  are." 

A  moment  after  a  well  known  physician  came  from  the  car. 
riage,.  leading  another  man.  In  a  moment  he  was  visible. 

18     " 


410  VIGOR. 

"  The  mad  chap  is  Mr.  Grnnville,  as  I  am  a  sinner.  There 
is  no  mistake  about  it,"  said  O'Doemall. 

From  the  second  carriage  came  Mrs.  Benson  and  Isabella 
Benson  and  Mrs.  Wilson.  The  group  entered  the  gate,  and 
proceeded  to  the  asylum. 

"  A  regular  family  party,"  said  O'Doemall. 

"  Walter  Granville's  death  has  done  the  work  for  his  poor 
old  father,"  added  Marion. 

"  Is  Walter  Granville  dead  ?  That  is  news  to  me.  When 
did  he  die  ?"  asked  O'Doemall. 

"  He  was  drowned  from  a  ship  in  the  Delaware  river,"  re- 
plied Marion. 

The  two  followed  the  procession  up  to  the  asylum,  and  after 
Mr.  Granville  had  been  disposed  of,  and  his  friends  had  re- 
turned to  New  York,  Marion  made  inquiries  of  the  superinten- 
dent He  ascertained  that  the  physicians  had  pronounced  the 
case  of  Mr.  Granville  to  be  a  melancholy  species  of  insanity, 
and  that  being  uncertain  what  form  it  might  take,  it  had  been 
deemed  advisable  to  place  him  under  a  mild  restraint,  and 
where  he  could  have  the  best  of  mad  medical  advice. 

It  may  be  as  well  here  to  state  that  Mr.  Granville  continued 
to  reside  at  the  asylum  for  months,  and  then  -for  years.  Ho 
confided  the  closing  up  of  his  affairs  to  his  son-in-law  and  Col. 
Benson.  He  signed  his  own  papers  in  liquidation,  and  even 
the  checks  with  which  he  paid  his  quarterly  dues  of  sixty  dol- 
lars were  signed  by  himself.  When  he  wishes  to  leave  the 
asylum,  he  docs  so,  and  not  unfrequently,  after  a  visit  of  two 
or  three  days  to  the  city,  his  own  carriage  conveys  him  back 
to  the  asylum.  He  is  never  violent,  but  for  days  is  quietly  in- 
sane. He  is  still  wealthy,  fur  his  business  was  closed  up,  and 
his  capital  invested  in  real  estate  and  stocks  in  his  own  name. 
His  daughter  treats  him  the  same  as  in  his  palmiest  days.  His 
grandchildren  are  objects  of  his  deepest  love,  and  he  never 
speaks  of  his  son  but  in  a  sentence  of  two  words — "  Poor  Wal- 
ter." 

To  return  to  Mr.  O'Doemall  and  Marion.  They  commented 
freely  as  they  walked  about  the  grounds  after  Mr.  Granville 
had  been  received  upon  his  insanity.  Marion  was  unable  to 
realize  the  fact.  He  was  so  many  years  with  that  merchant, 
and  respected  him  so  highly,  it  seemed  impossible  he  could 
fall  from  his  lofty  position.  He  was  abruptly  startled  from  his 
reflection  by  the  voice  of  O'Doemall. 

"  That  sweetheart  of  yours.  Miss  Isabel,  is  quite  a  little  ugly 
old  woman.  I  suppose  seeing  her  has  touched  a  soft  spot,  eh  ?" 


VIGOR.  -ill 

"Not  at  all.  I  am  pained  to  see  the  hoad  of  the  family  in- 
side of  these  walls,  and  I  am  sorry  that  his  daughter  should  be 
a  witness  of  her  father's  incarceration.  But  she  hns  shown 
that  she  has  filial  feeling  in  her  heart  by  coming  here  with 
him,  and  I  respect  her  the  more  for  so  doing,"  observed  Ma- 
rion, quietly. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  hurry  you,  but  it  is  time  for  you  to  go. 
The  hour  of  visitors  is  passed,"  said  O'Doemall. 

Marion  bade  him  good-bye,  left  the  asylum,  and  returned  to 
town. 

It  was  some  days  before  he  could  execute  the  commission  of 
Mr.  O'Doemall  in  reference  to  Colonel  Clairfoot.  When  he 
returned  to  the  asjlum,  he  carried  with  him  a  newspaper  in 
which,  among  the  list  of  passengers  by  a  packet  ship  that  had 
sailed  for  Liverpool,  were  found  the  names  of  thv  Colonel  and 
Lady  Clairfoot.  When  O'Doemall  read  this,  be  asked  Marion 
if  he  came  out  in  a  carriage.  The  reply  was  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Then  I  will  return  to  the  city  with  you.     I  am  quite  well." 

Marion  had  no  objection  to  offer,  and  the  two  came  to  the 
city  in  the  same  carriage.  O'Doemall  ordered  the  eeacliman 
to  drop  him  at  the  "  Waverly,"  a  hotel  on  the  corner  of  Broad- 
way and  Exchange  street. 

With  Mr.  O'Doemall  our  story  will  soon  finish.  New  York 
got  too  hot  for  him.  He  had  committed  acts  that,  fairly  inves- 
tigated, would  have  sent  him  to  the  State  Prison.  He  had  es- 
caped the  immediate  danger  from  his  wrongs  to  Lady  Clair- 
foot, but  how  soon  an  avenger  might  return  and  hold  him  to  a 
stern  account,  was  not  to  be  calculated  upon.  With  such  dan- 
gers staring  him  in  the  face,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  leavo 
New  York  for  a  time,  if  not  forever.  He  called  upon  the  re- 
spectable firm  with  whom  he  had  deposited  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars, being  a  portion  of  the  money  he  had  robbed  from  Lady 
Clairfoot.  He  requested  the  firm  to  obtain  for  him  ten  certifi- 
cates of  deposit  in  the  Hank  of  New  York,  payable  to  his  order, 
for  one  thousand  dollars  each,  and  he  called  and  left  his  signa- 
ture at  the  bank  and  received  the  ten  certificates.  Armed  with 
this  sum  and  the  ready  ca^h  he  had  about  him,  he  left  New 
York  without  a  word  to  a  living  man  or  woman  as  to  his  des- 
tination. 

He  was  seen  not  many  months  afterwards  in  tha  streets  of 
New  Orleans  by  one  who  had  known  him  in  New  York,  and 
still  later,  when  the  California  excitement  broke  out,  a  vessel 
said  to  be  owned  by  him  left  New  Orleans  for  San  Francisco 

in  California.     He  arrived  there  iu  safety,  and   sold   the    ship. 

•.  - 


412  VIGOR. 

His  adventures  in  that  gold  region  were  of  a  spirited  char- 
acter, and  if  ever  they  are  published,  if  his  character  did  not 
change  from  what  it  was  in  New  York,  they  will  be  a  chapter 
of  rogueries,  rascalities  and  villainies  unequalled  in  any  annals 
save  the  volumes  of  the  English  Newgate  Calendar. 


CHAPTER    LXY. 

IJf.nry  Robinson  introduces  Rose  to  Ai'.f  Parent!  as  a  Spanish  Gtrl  Clara 
Nvrix  Grunvillt  R-tu>nx  to  her  Farm  in  Sussa — Her  I1  .rents,  Brother^ 
and  Si-ter — Reflections  upon  the  Care  r  of  Cl^rit. 

HENRY  ROBINSON  did  not  rest  long  after  her  conversation 
with  Walter  Granville  before  he  put  the  plan  he  had  proposed 
into  operation.  He  called  upon  his  parents.  They  were 
delighted  to  once  more  behold  their  truant  son.  The  mother 
gave  wap  at  once,  and  clasped  him  in  her  arms.  All  was  for- 
gotten and  forgiven.  The  father  hesitated,  but  as  he  looked 
at  his  son,  more  manly  than  ever,  and  bronzed  by  exposure 
and  hardships,  he  too  forgave,  and  all  was  vrnll. 

"  Now,  Harry,  will  you  give  up  all  your  follies,  stay  at  home, 
and  be  a  good  boy  ?" 

"  Father,  I  will  ;  but  I  am  no  hypocrite.  Mother,  join  with 
me  in  asking  forgiveness  for  one  act  more.  I  have  concealed 
it,  bat  I  will  do  so  no  longer.  In  my  travels  in  South  Amer- 
ica at  one  of  the  ports  of  Peru  I  met  with  a  lovely  girl.  She 
loved  me.  She  was  an  orphan.  She  abandoned  home,  and 
came  with  me  to  America.  I  have  married  her.  I  could  not 
do  less.  Will  you  forgive  me  ?  Say  but  this.  Receive  my 
Rosa,  and  I  will  do  all  that  you  wish  me  to  do.  She  is  at  a 
hotel  waiting  for  your  decision.  Forgive  me  this  act,  for  it 
brings  you  a  lovely  daughter,  as  well  as  a  repentant  son." 

Long  and  painful  was  the  suspense.  Then  Mr.  Robinson 
inquired  if  .she  was  of  good  family  ? 

"  The  best  ;vbut  all  her  relations  are  dead.  She  has  now  no 
one  but  her  husband  to  love,  and — if  you  forgive  me,  then  she 
will  have  two  good  parents  to  love  and  respect,  as  I  do,"  said 
Harry,  and  he  knelt  to  his  parents  and  bowed  his  head  almost 
to  the  carpet. 

"  Does  she  speak  English  ?"  asked  the  father. 

"  Sho  does.  I  have  taught  it  to  her,  and  made  her  pledge 
her  solemn  word  that  she  will  not  speak  a  word  of  Spanish  for 


VIGOR.  413 

two  years.     This  will  make  your  son  forget  that  she  is  a  Span- 
ish girl." 

"  Harry,  we  forgive  you.  Go  at  once  and  bring  your  wife 
here.  We  will  receive  her  with  open  arms. — Mother,  you 
agree  to  this,  eh  ?" 

Of  course  the  mother,  agreed  to  it,  and  Harry  hurried  off  for 
his  wife.  When  he  reached  her  and  informed  her  of  all  that 
had  occurred.  She  shrank  from  the  task.  "  Oh,  if  they 
should  find  me  out.  I  cannot  speak  Spanish,"  pleaded  Rose. 

"  I  have  told  them  that  you  have  promised  not  to  do  so  for 
two  year.s,  so  that  you  will  have  to  keep  from  Spanish  for  that 
length  of  time,"  laughingly  observed  Harry. 

At  last  poor  Rose  was  equipped  properly  for  the  expedition. 
Her  baggage  was  packed,  and  she  entered  the  carriage  (hat 
was  to  convey  her  to  the  house  of  her  husband's  parents  with  a 
shrinking,  palpitating  heart.  She  was  beautiful,  and  Harry, 
as  he  clasped  her  to  his  heart,  whispered  words  of  encourage- 
ment and  endearment  at  the  same  moment. 

Again  he  entered  his  father's  doors;  and  leaning  on  his  arm 
was  the  pretty  but  confused  trembler.  They  entered  the  par- 
lor, and  the  fair  girl  was  kissed  and  embraced  by  both  parents. 
It  was  a  happy  day.  That  night,  before  the  family  retired, 
Henry  was  called  into  a  room  by  his  father  :  "  You  have  sown 
your  wild  oats,  I  hope,  Harry.  You  have  married  a  charming 
wife,  and,  you  dog,  if  you  don't  make  her  happy,  I  will  never 
forgive  you.  You  must  go  into  business.  I  know  a  large 
broker  who  needs  a  partner  and  capital.  I  will  furnish  you  as 
his  partner,  and  the  necessary  capital.  Do  you  agree  to  it, 
my  son  ]" 

"  I  agree,  dear  father,  to  any  thing  you  propose..  I  can  only 
regret  that  I  ever  disobeyed  you  iu  aiiy  thing,"  said  Henry, 
with  real  feeling. 

"  Let  all  that  pass.  Your  wife  is  a  lady  if  she  is  Spanish. 
I  can  see  that  she  has  got  the  old  Hidalgo  blood  in  hjr  veins  ; 
make  her  happy,  you  dog,"  said  the  father. 

Tue  happy  husband  was  once  more  upon  his  feet.  His  fa- 
ther placed  him  in  business,  and  rented  and  furnished  a  house 
for  him.  The  son  devoted  himself  to  business,  became  in  due 
time  a  parent,  and  in  a  sweet  domestic  home  found  happiness 
und  respect.  He  made  money  in  business  ;  his  wii'e  becoming 
an  ornament  to  society  ;  and  few  who  witnessed  the  Spanish 
beauty,  dressed  in  wiiite,  with  hc;r  long  dark  hair,  and  covered 
with  diamond*  as  she  appeared  in  the  parlors  at  a  ^arg^.*  party, 
.that  she  had  ever  been  an  '  outcast '  in  New  Yoik.  No  oue 


414  VIGOR. 

know  it  but  Clara  Norris  and  Mrs.  Woodruff.  The  latter 
knew  very  little  about  Rose  or  her  husband — and  though  sh<; 
once  met  the  beautiful  and  fashionable  Mrs.  Robinson,  she 
never  dreamed  that  she  had  known  her  as  Clara's  friend  Rose. 

The  change  in  her  position  in  life  never  leaked  out,  and  if  it 
had,  it  could  never  have  been   proved.      As   years  rolled   on 
Robinson  felt  more  at  ease,    and  when  his  father  died,  leaving 
him  a  splendid  fortune,  he  feared  no  longer. 

This  ends  his  connection  or  that  of  Rose  with  our  story.  We 
must  now  return  to  Clara  Granville.  Her  advice  had  led  to 
this  happy  result. 

The  melancholy  intelligence  that  Walter  Granville  had  been 
drowned  was  no  sooner  communicated  to  his  wife  Clara  Norris 
than  she  prepared  to  make  the  most  of  it. 

Properly  handled,  it  would  add  to  her  respectability  in  one 
quarter,  and  that  was  at  her  home  in  Sussex  County,  New  Jer- 
sey. She  caused  his  death  to  be  noticed  in  all  the  Jersey 
newspapers,  as  she  had  on  the  occasion  of  her  marriage  had  a 
notice  to  that  effect  widely  circulated.  The  widow  Clara 
Granville  hud  a  large  quantity  of  the  most  suitable  mourning 
dresses  made,  and  in  that  regard  her  conduct  was  unexception- 
able. When  the  dresses  were  finished,  she  took  her  departure 
from  New  York  for  Sussex  County. 

She  did  not  for  one  instant  believe  that  Walter  was  dead. 
She  knew  better,  but  it  suited  her  plans  and  purposes  to  act 
as  if  he  were. 

This  woman  was  still  gloriously  beautiful.  She  had  not  lost 
one  charm.  Age  seemed  in  her  case  to  improve  all  that  she 
originally  possessed.  She  had  taken  the  greatest  care  of  her 
person  and  her  health  :  she  dressed  with  elegance,  and  aimed 
at  the  simplicity  and  innocence  of  a  girl  of  sixteen. 

It  has  been  mentioned  to  her  credit,  'that  one  of  her  first 
acts,  so  soon  as  she  had  the  means,  was  to  elevate  and  place  in 
an  independent  position,  her  parents.  This  she  had  accom- 
plished. She  had  purchased  a  large  and  valuable  farm,  and 
stocked  it  well  with  cattle  and  agricultural  implements.  Her 
father  had  proved  an  excellent  farmer,  and  iu  nine  years  he 
had  almost  doubled  its  value. 

Clara  had  a  brother  and  sister  named  James  and  Augusta. 
These  children  when  she  left  home  were  respectively  six  and 
eight  years  old.  Tie  boy  James  was  the  eldest.  Clara  her- 
self was  but  fifteen  when  Mr.  Nordheini  removed  her  from  her 
home  ;  she  was  twenty-five  when  she  returned  thither  a  widow 
— but  oh,  to  what  a  different  home  !  Aud  the  ucw  home  wan 


VIGOR.  415 

of  her  own  creating.  She  had  sent  both  brother  and  sister 
away  from  home — the  one  to  a  Female  Academy  at  Newark, 
and  the  other  was  now  a  student  in  Princeton  College.  James 
was  a  handsome,  intelligent  young  fellow,  and  Augusta  was  a 
full  grown  girl  of  sixteen,  and  as  handsome  as  Clara  was  at 
that  age,  and  they  strongly  resembled  each  other. 

The  home  to  which  Clara  resorted  when  she  became  a  widow 
we  will  attempt  to  describe.  It  was  a  large  mansion,  with 
plenty  of  out-buildings,  many  of  them  erected  by  Clara's  or- 
ders. In  front  of  the  residence  was  a  level  lawn,  consisting  of 
about  twelve  asres,  and  at  the  edge  of  this  lawn  was  a  fresh 
water  lake  of  fifty  acres,  filled  with  fish  of  every  kind.  There 
was  a  bridge  at  the  outlet  of  this  lake,  and  crossing  this  bridge 
you  drove  tor  some  distance  on  the  main  road,  passing  through 
fields  of  corn,  grain,  clover,  and  pasture  grounds,  the  latter 
filled  with  cows  of  the  b-^st  stock.  You  descended  a  hill,  and 
then  camo  to  another  valley.  At  the  side  of  the  main  road  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill  was  a  gate  which  opened  into  a  side  private 
road.  This  hid  to  the  mansion,  which  was  located  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  main  road.  As  you  drove  to  the 
house  by  this  private  road,  you  passed  barns,  and  carriage, 
tool,  chicken,  and  cow  houses,  and  then  came  to  two  artificial 
fish  ponds.  A  little  farther  on  was  a  large  spring,  ten  feet 
do<-p,  surrounded  by  willows  whoso  roots  helped  to  strengthen 
the  dam  of  the  spring,  over  which  poured  the  pure  cold  water, 
making  a  fall  of  several  feet.  This  water  glistening  in  the 
sun's  rays,  was  a  sight  worth  seeing.  It  formed  a  little  brook 
which  meandered  through  the  meadow  we  have  described,  and 
emptied  into  the  lake. 

To  the  north  of  the  dwelling  were  large  orchards,  and  in  all 
directions  were  fruit  trees  of  every  description.  A  hundred 
white  ducks  were  swimming  on  the  lake,  and  as  many  geese 
sporting  in  the  brook.  The  garden  was  well  laid  out  and  tilled 
with  rare  flowers.  The  poultry  was  of  choice  breeds,  and  had 
been  selected  by  Clara  in  New  York.  She  had  also  made  her 
purchases  of  wagons,  bridles,  harnesses  and  saddles,  and  sent 
them  up.  In  the  stables  or  in  the  fields  were  several  valuable 
horses.  Nothing  was  wanting — and  when  the  widow  reached 
her  home  and  looked  abroad  over  the  beautiful  scene  from  the 
piazza,  and  felt  that  she  had  created  all  this,  she  said  to  her- 
self, "  Well,  well,  it'  I  have  been  what  the  world  calls  bad,  I 
have  not  lived  in  vain — I  have  made  others  happy."  Then  she 
tripled  d^wri  to  the  large  dairy  house,  which  was  built  of 
stone,  and  stood  upon  one  corner  of  the  spring,  and  drank 


416  VIGOR. 

buttermilk,  while  she  looked  at  the  revolving  water  wheel 
which  was  turned  by  the  water  from  the  spring,  and  churned 
all  the  butter  made  in  that  dairy. 

She  was  listening  to  the  music  of  (he  falling  water  when  her 
lovely  sister  came  down  the  road  with  a  pail  of  milk.  As  she 
left  the  dairy,  Augusta  came  and  stood  by  her  sister  upon  the 
large  flat  stone  by  the  brook. 

"  Dear,  darling  Clara,  how  beautiful  you  look.  But  what 
makes  you  cry — do  you  miss  brother  ?  Oh,  he  will  be  here 
in  a  few  days,  and  then  we  will  all  be  so  happy.  How  I  should 
have  liked  to  have  seen  my  brother-in-law  Mr.  Granville.  But 
he  is  dead — and  I,  a  foolish  girl,  ask  you  why  you  weep.  Come, 
dearest,  the  spray  froui  the  water  will  wet  you  through  ;  come 
and.  take  a  stroll  down  to  the  lake,  and  I  will  unfasten  the  boat 
and  row  you  out.  I  can  row  the  boat  as  well  as  brother." 

Clara  threw  her  arms  around  the  waist  of  the  fair  speaker, 
and  accompanied  her  to  the  lake.  There  was  on  it  a  beautiful 
boat,  which  Clara  had  sent  up  the  year  previous  ;  she  entered 
it,  and  her  sister  rowed  her  into  the  middle  of  the  lake.  Not 
a  wavelet  disturbed  that  mirror  of  glassy  water,  so  calm  and 
still.  Not  a  sound  was  heard  except  the  chirping  of  some 
bird,  or  the  lowing  of  some  cow. 

The  sun  had  ju.st  set.  Clara  Fat  motionless  in  the  boat,  and 
at  last  she  spoke. 

"  Dear  sister,  here  ought  to  be  happiness,  as  there  is  peace. 
Oh,  I  will  never  leave  this  pla;e  again.  I  have  been  in  the 
world — seen  its  hypocrisy,  frivolity  and  heartlessness.  Here 
is  home,  and  true,  fond,  loving  hearts  No,  I  will  never  leave 
you  more.  Now,  darling,  row  the  boat  ashore,  and  we  will  go 
up  to  the  house.  The  dew  is  fulling  fast,  and  I  am  not  yet 
used  to  it." 

The  fair  young  sister  complied,  and  they  landed,  and  walked 
linked  in  each  other's  embrace  up  to  the  house.  There  tin; 
evening  meal  was  ready,  and  Clara  partook  of  it  with  a  silent 
happiness  she  had  never  known  before. 

Few  fair  girls  who  have  beeu  forced  into  the  life  that  Clara 
Granville  had  led  for  ten  years,  ever  retired  from  it  so  success- 
ful. She  was  purchased — willingly  sold  herself  to  better  the 
condition  of  her  parents.  She  succeeded.  There  was  no  phase 
of  the  life  she  adopred  that  she  did  not  experience.  She  was 
the  kept  mistress.  She  had  her  costly  appointments  in  the 
highest  class  of  assignations,  and  she  lived  respectively  in 
brothels  No.  1,  No.  2.  and  No.  3,  where  she  was  accessible  at 
the  regular  prices  of  tho.se  establishments.  From  one  of  these 


YIGOR.  417 

ehe  emerged  to  entrap  a  young  man  of  good  family  into  mar- 
riage. From  that  hour  she  became  virtuous,  and  when  ho  left 
her  to  roam  upon  the  ocean,  and  hud  his  death  announced  in 
the  public  prints,  she  retired  to  her  home  in  the  country — to 
the  bosom  of  her  family,  to  the  respect  of  her  parents,  and  the 
love  of  sister  and  brother.  She  owned  a  beautiful  house.  She 
owned  property  in  New  York  that  was  rapidly  rising  in  value. 
She  had  money  in  stocks,  and  she  had  cash  in  bank  Her 
beauty  was  unimpaired.  She  had  acquired  accomplishments 
by  hard  labor.  She  could  play  upon  the  guitar  and  the  piano, 
spoke  several  modern  languages,  and  an  ordinary  education  in 
other  respects.  She  had  read  every  thing.  When  she  left 
home  she  was  ignorant  of  all  education.  She  had  educated 
herself,  her  brother  and  her  sister.  She  had  redeemed  a  father 
and  a  mother  who  both  drank. 

There  is  a  moral  in  such  a  tale  as  this.  We  may  condemn 
the  means  she  used  to  accomplish  such  great  results  in  her 
limited  circle,  but  we  cannot  withhold  praise  from  them. 

Contrast  her  position  with  the  thousands  who  sink  every  year 
into  the  gutter  and  the  grave  in  the  great  city  of  New  York. 
Many  enter  upon  the  life  of  a  harlot  under  as  favorable  aus- 
pices as  Clara  Norris  did.  They  are  kept  by  men  of  wealth, 
but  the  foolish,  unthinking  girl  spends  what  she  could  save 
with  a  lavish  hand,  and  when  the  lover  or  keeper  becomes  cold 
she  has  no  resource  but  to  take  a  step  down.  Again  she  is  the 
idolized,  petted,  caressed,  and  money-making  girl  in  the  most 
aristocratic  house  of  ill-fame.  But  prudence  deserts  her  here. 
Money  is  flung  into  her  lap  by  handt'uis,  and  she  tosses  it  out 
again  for  dresses  and  jewelry,  and  becomes  indebted  to  the 
principal  of  the  house  or  landlady  until  disease  or  accident 
sends  her  down  another  grade.  Here  she  is  equally  improvi- 
dent, and  drinks  like  a  fish.  There  is  a  lower  and  a  lo\ver 
deep  until  she  reaches  Water  street,  the  Hook,  or  the  Points, 
and  there  she  has  but  one  step  more  to  take,  that  is  to  the 
alms-house,  and  from  there  she  is  eventually  carried  in  a  white 
pine  box  to  an  unknown  grave. 

There  is  hope  for  the  prostitute,  but  it  rests  with  herself. 
She  is  the  arbitress  of  her  own  destiny.  She  wields  a  power 
she  little  dreams  of.  She  commences  her  career  with  money, 
She  earns  it  in  quantities.  Did  she  but  know  enough  to  save 
it,  she  could  fight  the  world  with  its  own  powerful  weapon, 
tnotiey.  The  unfortunate  girl  wiio  is  forced  into  such  a  life  for 
any  cause  is  too  apt  to  be  cut  oil  by  her  own  connexions,  UUICMJ 

18* 


418  VIGOR. 

her  parents  or  relatives  are  very  poor,  so  poor  that  money, 
earned  in  any  manner,  is  a  balm  for  disgrace. 

Clara  Norris  owed  her  salvation  and  success  to  one  fact.  She 
went  into  a  life  of  infamy  armed  with  a  holy  love  for  her  pa- 
rents and  her  brother  and  sister.  She  earned  and  she  saved. 
It  was  for  them,  and  as  money  accumulated  she  became  more 
and  more  anxious.  She  bought  and  paid  part — she  had  a  mo- 
tive to  pay  the  rest  until  sh.e  owned  property  that  paid  an  in- 
come of  itself.  Her  sin  was  great,  but  it  was  redeeming.  She 
did  good  to  others,  and  first  to  her  own  household. 

When  she  returned  to  reside  in  her  parents'  home  did  the 
finger  of  scorn  point  at  her  from  any  quarter  ?  No.  She 
would  have  shot  that  man  with  looks  alone  that  had  dared  to 
approach  her  in  her  own  home  with  infamous  thoughts  or  pro- 
posals. Neither  was  she  a  hypocrite.  To  her  young  and  beau- 
tiful sister  she  unfolded  the  secrets  of  her  past  life,  her  mo- 
tives, and  by  her  conversation,  impressed  her  with  the  awful 
sanctity  of  virtue,  and  the  happiness  of  a  fair  girl,  whose  posi- 
tion was  such,  that  she  need  not  deviate  from  its  paths,  and 
after  the  conversation,  that  younger  sister,  in  her  robe  of  pur- 
ity and  beauty,  walked  forth  Into  the  green  fields  and  into  the 
wild  forests  with  a  character  as  stern  and  proud  as  if  contam- 
ination had  never  approached  the  sister  she  loved,  who  had 
sacrificed  all  she  had  done  for  the  good  of  the  drunken  parents 
and  the  poverty  struck,  uninspected  children.  Augusta,  as  she 
listened  to  her  sister's  exposure,  loved  her  dearer  than  ever. 
So  when  James  came  home,  a  glorious  educated  boy,  she  was 
his  companion,  talked  freely  with  him,  instructed  him  against 
the  wiles'  of  the  sex,  told  him  of  the  power  of  money,  what  it 
had  done  for  all  of  them,  and  how  it  was  powerful  enough  to 
beat  down  the  darts  of  scorn  from  the  most  respected  and  re- 
spectable in  society.  Mrs.  Granviile,  at  her  home,  was  the 
perfect  lady.  She  devoted  herself  to  making  her  sister  as  ac- 
complished as  herself.  She  souglitno  society  ;  and  slie  treated 
with  kindness  all  those  who  approached  her  home  with  feelings 
of  respect. 

Her  brother  was  armed  against  the  false  opinion  of  the 
world.  The  sister  installed  into  his  mind  the  highest  ambi- 
tion. She  led  him  to  think  that  success  in  the  world  was  noth- 
ing, and  that  with  books  and  a  home  and  healthful  work  he 
could  be  far  happier  than  in  any  other  sphere  of  life. 

"  When  your  father  dies  the  place  shall  bo  yours,  and  you 
can  make  it  a  paradise.  The  world  may  blame  me  for  my  own 


VIGOR.  419 

life.     Conduct  yourself  properly,  and  blame  will  never  attach 
itself  to  you." 

Such  was  sister  Clara,  and  she  commanded  the  respect  of  all 
in  her  vicinity.  We  shall  leave  her  in  her  country  home  with 
every  material  for  future  happiness,  and  nothing  to  mar  it, 
save  it  be  some  unpleasant  memories  of  the  past. 


CHAPTER   LXYI. 

The  Count  Falsschins^i  dines  at  Iteltnoiico's  with  his  B  other-in-law — Pro~ 
j>ox  a  that  he  should  be  a  Merchant  -and  go  into  anoint  ss  with  Marion  Monck 
—  The  Count  seeks  out  Morion — Tea  at  Mr.  Grasper  s—Tk?.  affair  or- 
•ranged—  Marion  Mnnrk  culls  upon  Mr.  Btnn^t  at  the  A  (tor  ffottue — Air. 
B-.nntit's  opinion  of  the  London  Times  and  Journalism  generally. 

DELMONICO'S  establishment  was  at  the  corner  of  Beaver  and 
William  street,  and  the  Count  Ftilsechinski  met  his  brother-in- 
law  Francis  Grrasper  at  the  appointed  hour,  as  agreed  upon  at 
breakfast.  The  Count  was  there  in  advance  of  young  Grasper, 
and  he  occupied  his  time  until  the  latter  arrived  in  the  coffee- 
room  of  that  famed  and  still  famous  establishment.  A  dinner 
had  been  ordered  in  a  private  room.  When  Francis  arrived, 
they  both  repaired  to  the  room,  and  soup  was  soon  placed  be- 
fore them. 

"  Brother  of  mine,  I  don't  feel  much  like  dining,  and  I  did 
not  fix  upon  a  dinner  as  a  means  of  very  great  enjoyment,  but 
rather  as  a  means  of  securing  your  time  and  attention,  while  I 
open  to  you  a  plan  that  I  think  you  will  be  pleased  with,"  ob- 
served the  Count. 

"  I  am  quite  sure,  Count,  that  I  shall  be  pleased  with  any 
project  you  should  suggest  for  my  advantage.  I  know  you 
have  my  good  at  heart,  and  I  know  you  would  propose  nothing 
that  would  not  be  pleasant  to  me,"  said  young  Grasper. 

"  Do  not  be  too  sure  of  that,  my  amiable  brother,  but  listen 
to  me.  The  American  people  must  have  something  to  do,  if 
they  would  be  respected.  You  may  be  as  rich  as  Croesus,  or 
your  father — it  won't  answer  for  respectable  purposes,  unless 
you  do  something  in  this  country,  where  people  all  work. 
People  ask.  '  Who  is  that  young  man  r"  They  also  ask,  '  What 
docs  he  do  ?'  To  the  first  question,  the  reply,  '  He  is  the  son 
of  the  President  of  the  United  States,  or  of  John  Smith,'  is 
a; ike  unsatisfactory,  unless  the  second  is  properly  answered 
If  the  reply  to  the  second  should  happen  to  be,  '  0,  he  does 


420  VIGOR. 

nothing,'  it  is  tantamount  to  saying,  '  O,  he  is  a  natural  born 
fool,  and  has  got  nothing  to  do,  for  he  is  incompetent  to  do 
anything.'  A  man,  particularly  a  young  tmin,  has  no  position 
if  he  is  idle,  no  matter  what  his  means  may  be.  He  had  bet- 
ter open  an  oyster  saloon,  a  cigar  shop,  or  a  penn#  milk  depot. 
He  must  do  something.  What  do  you  say  to  that,  Francis  ? 
Am  1  not  correct  ?"  asked  the  Count. 

"  You  are  not  only  correct,  but  I  have  already  experienced 
its  truth.  Many  a  time  have  I  been  asked,  '  What  business  are 
you  in  ?'  and  when  I  have  replied,  'I  am  in  no  business,"  the 
question  has  been  repeated  in  a  different  form  :  '  Clerking  it 
yet  ?'  and  when  I  have  said,  '  No,  I  am  not  a  clerk ;'  there  has 
been  a  pause,  as  though  I  had  insinuated  that  I  lived  by  petty 
larceny,  or  something  that  was  criminal.  You  are  right, 
Count,  I  need  something  to  do.  What  is  it  you  have  to  pro- 
pose ?"  asked  young  Grasper. 

"  My  dear  Francis,  are  you  willing  to  become  a  lawyer  ?" 
asked  the  Count. 

"  No,"  replied  Francis. 

"  A  doctor  1"  asked  the  Count. 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Francis. 

"  A  parson  ?"  asked  the  Count. 

"  No,  no,  no.     Worse  and  worse,"  replied  Francis. 

"  Then,  my  dear  fellow,  there  is  only  one  decent  employ- 
ment left.  Will  you  consent  to  be  a  merchant  ?" 

"  What  sort  of  a  merchant — a  dry  goods,  shoe  store,  silks, 
groceries  ?"  asked  the  youth. 

"  No — none  of  these.  They  arc  mere  shopkeepers,  not  mer- 
chants. I  mean  a  merchant  in  the  largest  and  most  extensive 
meaning  of  the  word.  To  do  a  business  with  foreign  ports — 
to  export  and  import  cargoes.  To  sell  cargoes,  and  foreign  or 
domestic  produce  on  commission.  To  own  ships,  and  send 
them  laden  to  the  ports  of  the  world,  and  bring  back  return 
cargoes.  That  is  the  kind  of  merchant  I  mean,'1  said  the  Count. 

"  And  that   sort  of  business,   Count,    would    suit    me  to  a 
nicety.     But  how  am   I   to  get  into  any  such  large  concern  ?"  • 
asked  young  Grasper. 

"  You  need  a  partner.  Now  I  have  in  view  a  young  man 
like  yourself,  only  several  years  older.  He  has  no  capital,  but 
he  has  business  capacity  of  the  highest  order.  He  is  capable 
of  conducting  just  such  a  business  as  I  have  described,"  said 
the  Count. 

"  What  is  his  name  ?     Do  I  know  him  ?"  asked  Gasper,  Jr. 

44  His  name  is  Marion  Monek.   He  wns  for  many  years  in  tho 


VIGOR.  421 

counting-rooms  of  Granville  &  Nordheira.  There  are  very  few 
young  men  more  capable  of  successfully  carrying  on  a  large 
business  than  my  young  friend.  He  has  no  capital,  but  if  you 
think  you  and  he  could  get  along  as  partners,  I  will  give  aim 
a  capital,  and  there  will  be  no  trouble  in  getting  your  father  to 
give  you  a  still  larger  capital,"  observed  the  Count. 

Young  Grasper  reflected  a  few  moments,  and  then  replied, 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  go  into  such  a  partnership  for 
the  purpose  of  doing  the  commercial  business  you  have  de- 
scribed, but  I  am  not  at  all  acquainted  with  it.  Would  Mr. 
Monck  be  content  with  such  a  commercial  ignoramus  as  I 
should  prove  to  be  for  a  partner,"  asked  Francis  Grasper. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it.  He  would  of  course  understand 
that  you  could  not  regulate  business,  or  conduct  it  as  he  could 
now  do.  But  you  would  learn  in  time  to  do  that.  I  know 
you  possess  perseverance,  and  have  nothing  to  interfere  with  a 
devotion  to  your  new  business.  I  thought  I  would  have  a  free 
and  frank  conversation  with  you  before  [  said  anything  definite 
to  my  young  friend  Monck,  or  to  your  father.  Now  if  you  will 
say  that  you  would  like  to  try  the  experiment,  I  will  go  to 
work  and  complete  all  the  necessary  arrangements,"  said  the 
Count. 

"  Then  I  say  at  once,  go  ahead.  I  am  willing  to  place  my- 
self in  your  hands,  and  am  really  quite  anxious  to  see  my  part- 
ner that  is  to  be,"  said  Francis  Grasper. 

"  Let  us  finish  our  dinner,  then  and  go  and  find  Mr.  Moack. 
He  has  been  absent  in  the  South  for  some  time,  or  I  should 
have  proposed  this  matter  to  you  long  ago.  He  has  been  back 
a  few  weeks.  1  have  seen  him  but  two  or- three  times  since," 
observed  the  Count. 

The  brothers-in-law  finished  their  dinner  at  Delmonico's,  and 
then  went  to  look  after  Marion  Monck.  They  went  to  his 
boarding-house  and  to  several  of  his  haunts,  but  did  not  suc- 
ceed in  finding  him  while  they  were  in  company.  At  last  the 
Count  proposed  that  young  Grasper  should  leave  him,  and  that 
Le  would  seek  Marion  Monck  alone.  As  soon  as  Francis  had 
gone  home,  the  Count  turned  down  town,  and  went  to  46  Cen- 
tre street,  and  not  finding  Marion  there,  he  took  a  seat,  and 
waited.  He  had  not  to  wait  long.  The  young  man  he  was 
seeking  soon  entered,  and  frankly  extending  his  hand  to  the 
Count,  observed, 

"  Well,  Count,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  ;  for  it  affords  me  an 
opportunity  for  thanking  you  for  past  kindness,  and  to  say,  at 
the  same  time,  that  I  am  obliged  to  ask  you  to  be  more  defiuito 


422  *    VIGOR. 

*       • 

in  the  proposal  that  you  have  hinted  to  me.  I  know  you  have 
my  interest  at  heart.  I  have  received  a  proposal  to  leave  the 
city  and  to  write  letters  to  a  leading  newspaper  this  winter  ; 
so  if  you  have  not  some  thing  for  me  to  do,  I  shall  accept  it." 

Marion  hesitated  as  he  made  this  communication,  but  the 
Count  relieved  his  mind  at  once. 

"  Well,  Marion,  hear  what  I  have  to  say,  and  then  decide. 
I  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude  that  money  cannot  repay.  I 
know  that  you  are  ambitious  to  get  into  mercantile  business. 
I  have  had  a  plan  for  this  a  long  time,  but  I  was  unable  to 
carry  it  out  until  last  spring,  and  then  you  were  gone  South 
before  I  knew  it.  I  would  furnish  you  with  money  freely,  but 
I  know  also  that  you  accept  it  reluctantly,  and  I  doubt  whether 
you  would  have  done  that  had  you  not  supposed  I  was  paying 
to  keep  you  along  for  purposes  of  ray  own.  So  I  was.  N->w 
let  me  explain  my  design.  I  have  a  brother-in-law,  a  fine 
young  fellow — his  name  is  Francis  Grasper.  Did  you  ever 
see  him,"  said  the  Count. 

"  Very  frequently.  I  know  him  by  sight,  although  I  have 
no  particular  acquaintance  with  him,"  replied  Marion. 

"  I  wish  to  put  this  young  man  in  business  with  you.  He 
is  intelligent,  but  inexperienced.  What  do  you  say  to  it  ?" 
asked  the  Count. 

"  How  can  I  go  into  business  ?  I  have  no  capital — and  he 
would  not  go  into  partnership  with  a  young  man  penniless, 
like  me,"  said  Marion. 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,  my  young  friend,  but  be  that  as  it 
may  be,  I  am  not  going  to  let  you  go  into  business  without 
capital.  How  much  capital  would  it  require  to  do  a  safe  and 
successful  commission  business — have  you  any  idea  ?"  asked 
the  Count. 

"  1  have  sir,  because  it  is  a  subject  I  have  thought  deeply 
about.  If  I  was  to  go  into  business,  and  hud  thirty  thousand 
dollars,  we  could  do  a  smashing  business,"  replied  Marion. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  do  a  swishing  business — that  would 
be  bad.  But  seriously.  You  shall  have  thirty  thousand  dol- 
lars. I  will  give  you  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  this  sum,  with 
your  superior  business  abilities,  shall  be  deemed  equal  to 
twenty  thousand  dollars,  which  Frank  shall  put  in  the  concern, 
or  rather  his  father  shall  put  in  for  him.  Now,  sir,  consider 
this  matter  as  arranged.  Does  it  meet  your  views  ?"  asked 
the  Count. 

"  I  can  hardly  speak,  Count — I  do  not  know  what  to  say. 
Yet  if  you  think  I  shall  uot  disappoint  your  expectations,  I 


VIGOR.  423 

will  cheerfully  enter  into  a  partnership  so  much  to  my  benefit, 
and  I  will  do  the  best  I  can.  My  whole  soul  shall  be  in  the 
work,"  observed  Marion  Monk,  very  earnestly. 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  do  not  doubt  it  for  a  moment.  You  will 
succeed,  I  am  sure  ;  but  if  you  do  not,  it  will  not  be  a  great 
loss  to  any  one  but  yourself.  I  can  afford  to  lose  ten  times  ten 
thousand  dollars,  and  not  feel  it ;  and  even  if  you  do  not  suc- 
ceed, old  Mr.  Grasper  would  pay  willingly  that  sum  to  see  his 
eon  in  business  with  a  good  partner.  Is  it  a  bargain  ?"  asked 
the  Count. 

"  Decidedly,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  said  Marion. 

"  Then  you  must  go  up  with  me  to  Mr.  Grasper's.  Francis 
has  been  hunting  with  me  for  you  for  several  hours,  and  went 
home  expecting  you  would  come  up  as  soon  as  I  found  you." 

"  But,  my  dear  Count,  I  am  not  exactly  fit  for  a  visit,"  said 
Marion. 

"  Bah  !  Come  with  me  and  make  no  apologies.  You  will 
be  welcome.  We  go  to  talk  business,  and  not  to  a  dress  ball. 
Come  along." 

Thus  urged  by  the  Count,  Marion  made  no  further  refusal, 
but  walked  up  to  the  grand  palace  of  the  Count's  father-in-law. 

"  Is  Mr  Francis  Grasper  in  ?"  was  his  first  inquiry,  after 
they  reached  the  house. 

"  He  is  sir,"  replied  the  servant ;  and  followed  by  Marion, 
the  Count  passed  into  the  parlor,  where  the  object  of  their 
search  was  seated  by  one  of  the  windows.  He  received  Ma- 
rion in  the  most  cordial  manner. 

"  I  will  leave  you  two  young  gpntlemen  to  get  acquainted. 
Francis,  I  have  agreed  to  give  Marion  Monck  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars. You  don't  know  quite  as  much  about  business  as  he  does, 
and  so  your  worthy  father  must  make  it  up  by  giving  you  twice 
that  amount.  I  will  go  and  see  him.  Make  Marion  remain  to 
tea.  I  wish  to  introduce  him  to  the  senior  Mr.  Grasper." 

With  these  words  the  Count  passed  out  of  the  apartment  to 
an  office,  where  he  found  his  father-in-law.  To  him  the  Count 
explained  his  plans.  They  were  at  once  cordially  embraced 
by  the  old  financier.  At  the  tea-table,  Marion  Monck  was  in- 
troduced to  the  old  gentleman,  and  to  the  rest  of  the  family. 
All  were  pleased,  and  ere  he  left,  he  had  made  an  appointment 
to  meet  young  Grasper  early  in  the  morning,  to  arrange  fur- 
ther matters  in  reference  to  the  new  commercial  establishment. 

When  he  left  the  house  of  Mr.  Grasper  it  seemed  to  Marion 
that  all  must  be  a  dream.  He  could  hardly  realize  the  fact 
that  from  being  almost  without  a  dollar  in  a  few  days  he  would 


424  VIGOR. 

be  a  partner  of  a  "firm"  worth  thirty  thousand  dollars.  "  But 
I  must  not  forget  old  friends  while  I  am  making  new  ones,  and 
I  will  call  upon  Mr.  Bennett  on  my  way  down  and  decline  hi 3" 
kind  offer."  With  this  intention  he  stopped  at  the  "  Astor." 
The  editor  of  the  Herald  had  recently  married,  and  with  his 
young  bride  was  stopping  at  the  Astor  House.  Marion  Monclc 
called  to  pay  his  respects  and  express  his  good  wishes  for  the 
happiness  of  the  new-married  pair,  and  to  decline  the  offer  of 
going  to  Washington.  He  was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Bennett, 
and  enjoyed  a  pleasant  chat  with  the  fair  dame.  Other  visitors 
entered  and 'Occupied  the  attention  of  the  lady,  and  Marion  had 
Mr.  Bennett  to  himself.  He  thanked  the  editor  for  his  kind- 
ness, and  for  his  fair  offers  for  the  future,  but  added  :  "  I  have 
been  so  long  an  apprentice  to  commerce  that  I  have  no  ainbition 
to  succeed  as  a  writer.  I  have  had  an  offer  to  go  into  partner- 
ship under  very  favorable  auspices.  My  partner  has  capital 
and  connexions,  and  is  a  very  amiable  young  man." 

"I  certainly  wish  you  success;  but  I  have  my  fears.  I 
think  that  there  is  a  great  uncertainty  about  a  merchant's  suc- 
cess, and  the  day  may  come  when  you  will  regret  not  having 
made  up  your  mind  to  connect  yourself  permanently  with  the 
business  of  journalism,"  said  Mr.  Bennett. 

"  It  may  be  so  ;  but  the  position  of  a  merchant  is  much  more 
creditable  than  even  that  of  a  newspaper  writer,"  was  Marion's 
reply. 

11  Simply  because  the  position  and  power  of  the  pen  is  not 
yet  properly  appreciated.  What  is  his  power  in  the  world 
who  can  merely  count  that  two  and  two  are  four,  and  that  twice 
four  are  eight,  and  goes  on  to  make  or  lose  money  on  that 
basis — who  knows  how  to  eat,  drink  and  sleep,  and  carry  on  a 
routine  business — when  placed  in  comparison  with  the  man 
who  writes  articles  that  are  read  and  will  tell  upon  the  minds 
of  thousands  ? — of  a  man  who  can  make  public  opinion,  or  who 
can  direct  it,  where  it  does  exis-t,  into  healthful  channels  ? 
Such  a  man  in  reality  should  hold  a  far  higher  position  than 
the  so-called  merchant  or  successful  shop-keeper.  Look  at  the 
circulation  of  the  Herald.  It  issues  over  ten  thousand  copies, 
and  is  read  by  at  least  one  hundred  thousand  persons.  Yet  it 
has,only  commenced  its  existence.  I  will  increase  its  circu- 
lation to  ten  times  what  it  now  is,  before  many  years  are 
passed;  and  it  will  command  an  influence  upon  this  continent 
equal,  if  uot  superior  to  what  the  London  Times  iiow  dyes  in 
Europe.  Few  people  understand  the  true  theory  of  journal- 
ism. J  ain  but  a  pupil  in  it.  When  I  started  the  Herald  I 


VIGOR.  425 

thought  I  had  no  more  to  learn.  Every  day  convinces  me 
that  I  do  not  even  now  know  anything.  Not  a  day  passes  but 
I  acquire  some  new  knowledge  of  my  profession,  and  I  suppose 
I  shall  continue  to  learn  as  long  as  I  live." 

Marion  made  no  reply  for  some  time  to  a  prophecy  uttered 
by  the  editor,  for  he  did  not  then  appreciate  its  force.  He 
asked  a  question  :  "  How  can  you  make  the  Herald  as  success- 
ful as  the  London  Times  1  That  paper  is  a  stock  concern,  and 
is  very  rich." 

"  It  was  started  and  placed  on  its  present  footing  by  the 
mind  of  one  man — John  Walters.  He  stocked  it — that  is  true 
— but  he  divided  the  stock  among  his  own  family,  and  the 
income  is  enormous.  The  family,  or  the  stock-holders,  rarclv 
interfere  with  the  course  of  the  Times.  It  is  edited  by  a  man 
who  never  writes  a  line  for  its  columns,  while  he  superintends 
the  matter  for  the  paper,  and  rejects  or  admits  the  editorials 
written  by  the  most  powerful  writers  in  England,"  said  Mr. 
Bennett. 

"  Why  does  not  the  powerful  editor  write  himself?"  asked 
Marion,  with  some  curiosity. 

"  Simply  that  it  is  human  nature  for  a  writer  to  harp  upon 
one  subject  too  long.  He  runs  it.into  the  ground.  An  editor 
who  is  a  clever,  judicious  man,  and  who  docs  not  write  him- 
self, becomes  impatient  with  the  writings  of  others.  He  has 
no  hobby  of  his  own,  and  his  rejections  of  articles  from  the 
pens  of  the  principal  writers  give  no  offence  and  excite  no  dis- 
affection, because  there  is  evidently  no  jealousy  on  the  part  of 
the  chief  editor.  His  decisions  are  wise  and  prudent  ones. 
Before  I  leave  the  Herald,  it  shall  be  equally  well  and  firmly 
established,  so  that  when  I  die  it  can  walk  along  alone  to  fulfil 
its  destiny.  Now  you  try  merchandising,  Marion,  but  mark 
my  words,  you  will  not  succeed,  and  when  you  get  sick  of  your 
mercantile  ambition  come  back  to  me.  You  have  talent,  and 
will  succeed  as  a  newspaper  writer.  It  has  been  my  opinion 
for  years.  I  have  tried  to  develope  the  genius  you  possess, 
and  I  have  at  least  made  you  aware  of  the  fact  that  you  do  pos- 
sess it.  Some  day  it  will  come  out,  and  I  hold  it  to  be  a  great 
pity  that  you  do  not  commence  at  once,  instead  of  wasting 
your  lime  in  the  shipping  or  any  other  commercial  business. 
See  who  is  right  in  the  long  run."  Thus  spoke  Mr.  Bennett, 
and  his  words  sown  there  produced  fruit  in  after  years,  but  not 
until  a  long  scries  of  mercantile  losses  and  disasters  had  mide 
Marion  Monek  sensible  that  the  editor  was  right. 

Marion  left  ''m  that  evening  with  feelings  of  the  truest  re- 


426  VIGOR. 

spect  and  esteem,  and  wa«  almost  convinced  that  the  best 
course  he  could  pursue  would  be  to  refuse  the  kind  offer  of  the 
Count  Falsechinski.  But — 

"  There  is  a  destiny  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough  hew  them  as  we  may." 

Marion's  destiny  seemed  to  be  a  merchant's  life. 


CHAPTER  LXYII. 

The  Conclusion. 

THE  lady  who  has  figured  in  these  pages  as  Mrs.  Woodruff, 
continued  in  her  business,  respected  by  those  who  did  not 
know  her  well,  and  retained  her  standing  in  society,  and  in 
the  religious  community  into  which  her  unparalleled  impu- 
dence had  forced  her. 

Her  establishment  was  the  most  choice  and  the  most  distin- 
guished of  any  in  the  city  of  New  York.  It  had  no  equal.  Her 
management  was  such  that  she  never  came  in  contact  with  the 
authorities,  and  she  had  among  her  acquaintances  and  friends, 
many  persons  high  in  official  power  and  influence,  who  would 
have  protected  her  from  harm  had  complaints  ever  been  made 
against  her.  Such  was  never  the  case,  however — and  now 
that  years  have  passed,  she  is  still  as  flourishing  as  ever. 

We  must  now  return  to  Marion  and  the  Count.  The  meet- 
ing between  Marion  and  Francis  Grayper  was  satisfactory  to 
both — and  after  several  days,  the  basis  of  their  partnership 
had  been  arranged  to  their  mutual  satisfaction.  Of  course  it 
was  equally  satisfactory  to  their  respective  friends.  Mr.  Wil- 
son had  been  consulted  by  Marion,  and  his  advice  was  of 
great  service  to  the  new  beginners  as  merchants  on  their  own 
hook. 

The  Count  Falsechinski  paid  in  a  cash  capital  often  thous- 
and dollars  for  Marion  Monck,  and  Mr.  Grasper  paid  in  the 
sum  of  twenty  thousand  dollars  for  his  son.  This  was  the  cash 
capital  of  '  Monck  &  Grasper,"  and  on  the  first  day  of  January, 
18 — ,  they  commenced  a  general  commission  and  commercial 
business.  Their  office  and  counting-room  was  in  Broad,  near 
Beaver  street. 

No  young  House  ever  started  under  more  favorable  auspi- 
ces— they  had  a  sufficient  cash  capital,  and  thanks  to  the  elder 
Grasper,  who  wrote  to  all  his  business  correspondents  in  dif- 


VIGOR.  427 

ferent  pnrts  of  the  Slates  and  in  Europe,  they  formed  commer- 
cial connections  of  the  strongest  kind. 

The  Count  had  determined  to  leave  New  York  with  his  wife 
immediately  after  Francis  and  Marion  had  commenced  busi- 
ness. It  was  further  decided  that  young  Grasper  should  ac- 
company them,  and  after  his  arrival  that  he  should  visit  the 
•  principal  ports  in  Europe,  and  endeavor  to  secure  business  to 
the  New  York  firm  of  Monck  &  Grasper.  This  plan  fully  met 
the  views  of  his  partner,  and  also  was  approved  by  the  senior 
Grasper.  Old  Mr.  Prime  was  consulted,  and  consented  to 
become  one  of  the  references  of  the  firm. 

Our  history  will  now  leave  Marion  Monck  settled  firmly  in 
his  seat  as  a  merchant  in  New  York  He  had  been  through  a 
great  variety  of  good  and  evil  fortune,  and  had  withstood  the 
temptation  of  both.  He  was  twenty-five  years  old — ambitious, 
energetic,  and  determined.  He  had  a  good  share  of  commer- 
cial experience — enough  to  justify  his  taking  the  charge  of  a 
commercial  house.  One  of  his  most  valuable  counsellors  was 
Mr.  Wilson,  who  came  daily  to  the  counting-room  of  his  young 
friend  Marion. 

After  the  departure  of  the  Count  Falsechinski,  his  wife,  and 
Francis  Grnsper,  the  old  Mr.  Grasper  never  failed  to  call  and 
see  how  the  young  Marion  Monck,  his  son's  partner,  was  suc- 
ceeding. 

We  shall  not  continue  the  history  of  our  hero  beyond  this 
point ;  he  had  succeeded  in  establishing  himself  as  a  mer- 
chant, and  that  is  the  second  of  the  four  great  epochs  of  every 
man's  life. 

The  other  characters  in  this  work  have  all  been  fairly  dis- 
posed of — and  in  tracing  out  their  various  careers,  a  deeply 
impressive  moral  may  be  drawn  in  each  case. 

Colonel  Benson  and  his  lady  were  in  the  enjoyment  of  all 
those  blessings  which  wealth  confers,  induced  by  a  fair  and 
easy  conscience. 

Middleton  Benson  was  a  steady,  prosperous1,  and  prudent 
merchant.  His  wife,  Isabella  Granville  that  was,  became  de- 
voted to  him,  an  excellent  mother  to  the  children,  and  quite  a 
domestic  woman  in  her  way.  No  tidings  had  ever  reached 
ner  of  her  brother,  since  his  death  had  been  announced  in 
tiie  newspapers. 

The  old  gentleman  Pitt  Granville  continued  to  be  busy  about 
his  affairs,  and  an  inmate  of  the  Asylum  at  'Bloomingdaie, 
where  he  could  receive  medical  treatment  when  hia  quiet  fits 
of  insanity  made  their  appearance. 


428  VIGOR. 

From  his  parents  Mai  ion  Monck  hoard  frequently.  They 
lived  on  in  their  quiet  Southern  home,  glad  to  hear  of  his 
success  in  getting  into  business,  but  profoundly  ignorant  of  its 
advantages.  His  aunt  Mary  had'become  a  very  scientific  wo- 
man, and  frequently  wrote  to  her  nephew  on  such  subjects  — 
although  he  would  have  valued  her  letters  more  had  they  quo- 
ted the  price  of  Sea  Island  or  upland  cotton. 

Mrs.  Tom  Granville  resided  in  Baltimore,  and  rarely  troub-' 
led  her  head  about  the  Granville  relations.  She  was  divorced 
from  Tom  by  a  double  divorce — the  Maryland  Legislature  was 
the  author  of  one,  and  grim  Death  of  the  second.  She  called 
herself  a  widow,  and  spent  a  great  portion  of  her  time  in  the 
city  of  Washington,  where  she  was  one  of  the  most  influential 
politicians.  A  bill  could  be  got  through  both  houses  of  Con- 
gress with  more  ease  with  her  aid  than  without  it — consequently 
she  became  a  very  popular  and  a  very  useful  woman  in  legis- 
lative affairs. 

Old  Josiah  Cubson,  the  laughing  Englishman,  settled  on 
Staten  Island,  and  became  the  father  of  a  baker's  dozen  of 
daughters. 

The  widow  Gaillard,  after  her  husband's  death  remained  in 
South  Carolina  with  her  mother-in-law,  devoting  her*«lf  to  the 
education  of  her  son.  Her  father,  Colonel  Benson,  visited 
her  occasionally. 

The  two  Peruvian  girls,  with  whom  Marion  Monck  was  a 
great  favorite,  returned  to  Peru,  where  they  married  revolu- 
tionary generals — and  as  their  husbands  were  shot  within  a 
year  after  their  respective  marriages,  they  became  widows. 

Forty-six  Centre  street  was  broken  up  by  the  death  of  its 
proprietor,  and  is  now  a  second-hand  furniture  store.  Jemmy 
the  bar-keeper  got  a  situation  on  the  Police. 

Of  the  descendant  of  the  old  Dutchman  Van  Hagen  we  havo 
given  a  full  narrative  up  to  the  hour  when  we  leave  him  a 
merchant  in  New  York,  where  he  must  "  do  or  die." 

Their  subsequent  career  must  be  the  subject  of  a  future 
volume,  should  it  ever  be  written* 


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TACTICS ;    OR,  CUPID  IN  8HOULDEP.  STRAPS.— A    vivacious     and 

witty  West  Point  love  story.      ...     I2mo.  cloth,  $1.00 

J.  C.  JeafTreson. 

A  BOOK  ABOUT  DOCTORS.— A  humorous  and  entertaining  vol 
ume    of    sketches     about     famous     physicians     *nd     sur- 
geons  I2mo.  cloth,  $1.50 

Jas.  If.  Hackctt, 

NOTES  AND  COMMENTS  ON  SHAKSPEARE.— By  the  great  AmH- 
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New  Sporting  Work, 

THE  GAME  FISH  OF  TUB  NOBTH.— An  entertaining  as  well  as 
instructive  volume.  Illustrated.  .  .  I2ino.  cloth,  $1.50 


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